What Magic Takes
by sleepysnore
Summary: Magic took Petunia's family. Now she is at the mercy of wizards and finds that what magic takes, magic gives back too.
1. Chapter 1- The Schism Between Sisters

Lily always liked giving Petunia her broken toys, the ones that had lost their shine. It made her feel generous, and commanded a small power over her older sister, whose plain face and dull personality got her much less from the adults around them. Petunia loved her regardless. Lily might have been the darling of their family but she was HER darling. Petunia worshipped her as much as their parents did. It might have turned out alright, if only Lily wasn't a witch.

* * *

Chapter 1

_September 1st, 1971- Petunia_

Dawn broke over the horizon and lit the sky with watery sunshine. Petunia had been up for ages, tearfully watching the sky become lighter and lighter, the ever growing glow of morning promising to rob her of her last hours with her sister. Later that morning, Lily would be on a train with that awful Snape boy, to a school for magic. A school that Petunia couldn't attend or ever see. She had never felt more left out in her life.

As an alarm went off somewhere in the house, her parents began bustling about, calling for Lily to wake up, for Lily to finish packing, for Lily to eat her breakfast, for Lily to hurry before she missed her train. Petunia sat aside quietly, watching the sister she would not see again for months. Said sister took no notice of her, her head occupied by thoughts of wands, magical text books and mysterious scarlet trains.

The morning rushed by in a blur. In no time at all, the Evans family were nearly at the entrance to Platform 9 3/4. The air was choked by the smell of smoke and people. A steady din of trolleys, chatter and oddly enough, squawks from several caged owls filled Petunia's ears. Her parents walked ahead, Lily clutched between them, chattering away. Finally, it was time to say farewell.

'Bye Tuney!' called Lily, with a cheer that Petunia didn't feel.

'Bye Lily,' whispered Petunia, tears threatening to silence her small voice, 'Don't forget me, please, and write to me always.'

Lily didn't reply; she was being smothered in weepy affection from her parents.

A few minutes later, Petunia watched as Lily was swallowed by the barrier to the magical platform. She was alone.

* * *

_Christmas, 1971- Petunia_

At first, Petunia felt Lily's absence sharply. Her room stood silent and void of its usual laughter, and her absence at supper was felt. Lily's chatter was replaced with letters. They came from Hogwarts, carried by barn owls, filled with stories of sumptuous feasts held in a great hall, teachers who could turn into cats and vast green houses that held strange and exotic plants. She frequently mentioned 'Sev' and his ongoing feud with a messy haired boy. Petunia's letters were quite mundane in comparison. She wrote of the neighbour's new baby, whose shrieks could be heard all the way up the street. She told Lily of the new recipe for shepherd's pie that she and their mum had tried, and of her teacher's kind remarks about her school work. Lily was never quite as impressed with these stories as Petunia was with hers.

The days grew shorter and colder, the leaves turning golden and then disappearing altogether. Petunia counted down the days to Lily's arrival for Christmas on her little calendar. She wondered if Lily had changed, or if she would be the same little sister she had always known.

Lily arrived at King's Cross in a flurry of snow and grey skies, her red hair standing out like a flame. Petunia thought she looked older, even though it had only been a few months.

'Mum! Dad!' shouted Lily, as she leapt into her father's arms.

Their parents enveloped her into a hug as they greeted her, while Petunia stood awkwardly to the side. The three of them walked ahead of her, a perfect little family, and she felt strangely out of place. She shook it off and put on a mask of excitement to greet her sister.

As Christmas neared, the house filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread, roasted potatoes, baked chicken and Christmas pudding. At thirteen, Petunia was old enough to help her mother in the kitchen. Her mother felt confident enough to leave her to complete tasks and chat with Lily. Indeed, Petunia found herself alone in the kitchen quite often while Lily regaled their parents with tales of Hogwarts.

'…and WE don't have end of term exams Mum! We've only got end of year tests!' Petunia caught the end of something Lily was saying.

Poking her head out of the kitchen Petunia interrupted, 'We've got rotten exams every term, you're so lucky. We even had projects to-'.

Her mother cut her off.

'Petunia, let Lily speak'

She turned back to Lily, effectively silencing her older daughter. It would not be the last time that holiday that Petunia was told to hold her tongue while Lily prattled on about Hogwarts. No one wanted to hear about silly old 'muggle' school while Lily talked about turning teacups into rats, though Petunia seriously doubted she could, or was even allowed to do that!

They went to church on Christmas morning, and it was almost like things were normal again. She wore her new red coat, and nicest hat, and felt quite put together. Even the sight of that annoying Severus Snape fawning over Lily as usual didn't lessen her joy. Petunia's heart was full as she happily sang 'Joy to the World' and 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman'. Then the service was over, and so was her temporary happiness. Their parents showed Lily off to everyone, their daughter who went to an exclusive boarding school. Only one elderly woman, Mrs. Figg, asked Petunia how school had been. Everyone else talked above her, commending Lily's achievement of getting into a 'posh' school.

They got home, and Petunia busied herself in the kitchen, trying to rid herself of the resentment she could feel welling up inside of her. As she viciously chopped up an innocent carrot for Christmas dinner, she cut her finger. Blood gushed out and dripped to the floor and she cried out for her mother.

'Oh dear, Petunia, how clumsy,' her mother murmured, as she bandaged the cut.

'Too bad we don't have any essence of dittany,' Lily piped up, 'Professor Slughorn says it's the BEST for injuries.'

'SHUT UP!' shouted Petunia, jumping up angrily, 'I don't CARE about your FREAK medicine or your FREAK school, for all you FREAKS!'

Her mother gasped, 'Petunia! Go to your room! I won't have that sort of talk on Christmas Day.'

Petunia fled the kitchen, tears running down her face. She could hear her parents discussing her poor behaviour, and Lily occasionally interjecting that her school was NOT for freaks. In that moment, Petunia hated magic more than anything, except perhaps those who practiced it.

Later, listening to her parents and sister chatter downstairs as they ate Christmas dinner together, the strange feeling of not belonging came back. That strange feeling never really left her again.

AN: Hi to anyone who might've read this! This is my first story, just getting my feet wet. Please let me know what you think! Chapter two should be up in a couple days.


	2. Chapter 2- Choking on Orange Blossoms

_Summer, 1978- Petunia_

The years passed. When Lily was at school, Petunia could almost believe that she was a beloved daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Evans. But when Lily was there, Petunia was second class. A muggle could never win against a witch in a competition for their parents' affection.

The summer of Petunia's 19th year was especially hot; she was glad she had gotten a job at the ice cream parlour in the village. It was a chilly refuge from the heat outside, and the owner, Mr. Higgins, allowed her ice cream whenever she liked. It was also an opportunity to get away from Lily and her stupid, handsome wizard fiancé who persisted in hanging around to plan their stupid, glamorous wizarding wedding. Mr. and Mrs. Evans were delighted with the marriage; Petunia thought Lily was entirely too young, but she was shushed whenever she said anything. Early marriage seemed all the rage amongst Lily's set. Apparently, one reached the age of majority at seventeen in the magical world. And didn't you know, there was a _war_ going on!

James Potter, with his bragging and arrogance, made Petunia almost miss shabby old Severus Snape. At least he left her in peace! That week alone, Potter had thought it funny to make her house keys shrink, making her believe that she'd lost them, turned her blonde hair green for an hour and transformed her drinking glass into a gerbil. Her parents and Lily found it hilarious, but Petunia was driven to tearful frustration. She was constantly on edge at home and began counting down the days till she left for her second year at the Teacher's Training College. Not only would she be away from magic there, but she would also be able to see Vernon Dursley, a young accounting student, who took her for hot chocolate and to the cinema and seemed to enjoy her decidedly normal company.

One hot August evening, Petunia walked home slowly after work, trying to extend her time outside the house. Planning for Lily's wedding had gone into overdrive and she wanted no part of it. The house was a mess of fabric, flowers, cake and party favours and it hurt her organised heart to see such chaos. The brown and dying grass crackled unpleasantly beneath her feet as she approached the playground and noticed a forlorn figure sitting on the swings. She blinked and recognised him- Severus Snape. He had grown from a skinny boy to a slim teenager, and was, as usual, dressed in black. His hair was still overgrown, and his nose was still beaky. She remembered Lily tearfully telling their mother that she and 'Sev' had fallen out, because he'd called her some sort of magical swear. At the time, Petunia hadn't particularly cared. Now, she wondered how one went from being Severus Snape's best friend to James Potter's fiancée in just one year. Not really knowing why she did it, she sat on the empty swing next to him.

'Hello Tuney'

'Hi Sn- Severus. Haven't seen you around,'

He blinked, and she could have sworn she saw a brief glimmer of tears in his eyes.

'I suppose you're busy with the… wedding,' he mumbled, looking away.

'Not me, just mum and Lily,' Petunia rolled her eyes, 'I hate it, I hate the fuss, to be honest.'

Severus raised his eyebrows. 'Oh? I thought that would've been your thing, Tuney, weddings and frills and all that.'

'Ha!' snorted Petunia, in a most unladylike fashion, 'Only when the groom isn't a complete toe-rag like James Potter!'

Severus' usually sullen face broke into an unexpected smile, and for the first time in her life, Petunia found herself smiling back at him. The unlikely pair sat together until the sun went down, mutual in their dislike for their Lily's chosen one.

* * *

_September 1st, 1978, Potter Manor- Petunia_

Petunia gazed at her reflection in the ornate mirror that hung in the exquisitely decorated room that James' mother had given her to get ready in. She grudgingly admitted to herself that the muted blue gown that her sister had chosen for her was actually flattering, and matched her eyes perfectly. The diamanté hair band circled her fair hair and made her think of the fairy princesses their mother would tell them bedtime stories about. Which, she realised, probably wasn't just a story in this world. With a last look in the mirror she grumpily acknowledged that even if Lily's taste in men was questionable, her style certainly wasn't.

Petunia made her way to the hall in which the ceremony would take place. The air was choked with the scent of orange blossoms and perfume, and she felt a bit dizzy. A glance at her little sister told her that she felt the same way. Lily's green eyes shone with tears, and her hands shook as she took the bouquet from Petunia.

'Tuney… what if I'm not ready for this?' whispered Lily, looking as scared as a small child on their first day of school, 'What if I'm too young?'

Petunia took a deep breath. She and Lily had long diverged from their sisterly bond, but it was time for her to be the older sister, the guiding light. She knew she could take this opportunity to convince her sister to ditch Potter and come back home, but it wasn't the right thing to do.

'Lily, you're the bravest girl- and witch- that I know. You can do this.'

Lily smiled feebly. 'I'm the only witch you know.'

'Odd isn't it, but it still stands,' laughed Petunia, with a humour she didn't really feel, and gently guided her sister to the door.

An hour later, Lily Evans was officially Lily Potter, and the reception was in full swing. Champagne flowed, along with a myriad of other magical drinks. A large seafood buffet contained delectable oysters, broiled lobsters and shrimp cocktail, while a section for hot food allowed one to choose from delicately flavoured rice, rich, cheesy potatoes and hearty pastas. A dessert bar gave guests the choice of chocolate cake, ice cream, tarts and delicious little biscuits. A chocolate fountain, the likes of which Petunia had never seen before, bubbled cheerfully, surrounded by strawberries.

All of Lily's school friends had attended, and Petunia lost her earlier confidence, choosing instead to lurk in the corner where she couldn't hear the word 'muggle' whispered about her. She weaved through the crowd, trying to be as invisible as possible, while sipping on a drink called butterbeer. Eventually, she settled on a comfortable armchair hidden by vast drapes.

The elder Mrs Potter walked briskly past her, deep in conversation with her companion.

'…oh yes, the Potters are VERY open minded!' she overheard Mrs. Potter saying to an old woman wearing a hat topped inexplicably with a stuffed vulture, 'We're a Light family as you know, and it looks so well for the cause that our James has married a muggle born girl.'

Petunia winced. She wasn't sure what Mrs. Potter meant, but she didn't like that Lily was some sort of political statement to the Potters. She only hoped that James felt differently.

* * *

_Winter, 1978- Petunia_

Home was quiet again, without the bustle of the wedding preparations. Mr. and Mrs Evans were despondent without Lily around and Petunia felt inadequate. She was pleased to return to college, and to Vernon.

He was the only person who loved her for what she was- normal. When she told him about Lily's magic, she was afraid he would think her mad. But he didn't.

'Pet,' said Vernon steadily, 'If you say a thing is true, then I believe you, sweetheart.'

It was his unfailing faith in her that made her say yes when he asked her to marry him that Christmas. He proposed at a simple dinner with a modest ring. It was nothing like Lily's large Potter family heirloom ruby that James had presented to her with a flourish. But Petunia knew that Vernon had scrimped and saved his wages from his part time job to get the small diamond, and she knew that it was given with all the love in the world. They married quietly in January of the new year, with no cake, no flowers, no champagne. Only love.

AN: Thanks so much to those who took the time to review, follow and fave! I'm aiming to update weekly, so look out for chapter 3 next Sunday. Please let me know what you thought of this one! xx


	3. Chapter 3- Castles in the Sky

_January 1979- Lily_

After a long honeymoon on a private Caribbean island, generously sponsored by the elder Potters, Lily and James returned to Potter Manor. Lily was greeted by the news that her sister had eloped, and James found a message from Albus Dumbledore, inviting the newlyweds to a meeting with 'other like-minded young people'. James was tremendously excited; he was eager to move against Voldemort, and he was certain that this group was Dumbledore's plan to fight Voldemort.

Lily was just as passionate about defeating Voldemort. After all, he hated muggle borns like her. But she did want a little more time to enjoy her new marriage before going into battle! She also quietly pondered on her sister's elopement. Their parents wrote to her and told her that her sister's husband was 'fairly nice, rather dull, but suitable for Petunia'. Petunia must have been thoroughly jealous of her marriage or she would not have married the first boring bloke who asked her, Lily thought scornfully. It seemed as though Petunia was not just lacking in actual magic, she appeared to have none of the figurative sort either. Lily shook her head and put her sister's dreary romantic life out of her mind, and went to explore the rooms that would be her home now.

Mrs. Potter had given them a beautiful apartment for their own in Potter Manor, as well as a little house elf named Soosa to clean and cook for them. This relieved Lily- between the Hogwarts feasts and her mother's and Petunia's delicious fare, she had never learnt to cook. And she doubted James had ever even been to a kitchen in his life!.

She entered the door and found a beautiful drawing room. It was far larger than the one in her parents' home, with floor to ceiling windows overlooking a small lake. The room was furnished with exquisite antiques that must have been in James' family for hundreds of years and she carefully sat on an Elizabethan chair to look around. A fire roared in the huge fireplace, bringing a warm glow to the vast, chilly room. A writing desk stood in the corner, and she imagined her husband sending off important correspondences there.

She got up and wandered down the length of the room, looking with interest at the moving portraits that adorned the walls. At the end of the room, an ornate door led into a large dining room, with seating for eight. It was much smaller than the formal dining room downstairs but, Lily thought, it would do for when James' rowdy friends visited.

Beyond the dining room lay a surprisingly modern little kitchen. Unlike the huge kitchen operated by the small army of house elves owned by the family, this kitchen contained a new refrigerator and a small stove. Lily suspected that this had been installed for her benefit and she was grateful. It would be a long walk downstairs just for a cup of tea! The cupboards she examined were stocked with tea, coffee, biscuits and snacks. Others contained raw ingredients. Lily wasn't particularly interested in them- that was Soosa's responsibility.

She entered a small corridor, and found several bedrooms with attached bathrooms. They would make for lovely guest rooms, she mused. Her friends, Alice and Marlene would adore staying here. She laughed to herself as she pictured Marlene's pinched face. Marlene had been in love with James since first year, and could never understand Lily's disdain for him. Now it was she, Lily, who was married to James Potter, and poor Marlene was still single. Lily dismissed her former classmate from her thoughts and glanced at one of the smaller bedrooms… perhaps, one day, it could become a nursery, she thought with a smile. Finally, she came to the bedroom that she and James would share. A giant fourposter bed was positioned in the centre of the room. Crimson drapes and soft bedding made it look warm and cosy, despite its size. At that moment, her husband entered the room.

'Found my favourite room, I see,' smirked James, as he gathered Lily up to kiss her and proceeded to make good use of that 'favourite room'.

* * *

_Christmas, 1979- Lily_

Lily and James' first year as a married couple was marred by the looming war. Every day they would receive news of fatalities and murders. Often, they would be summoned to Dumbledore's meetings. James had been right; Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix WAS a movement against Voldemort's reign of terror. Both she and James had found themselves in duels against the death eaters, barely escaping death each time and they grew years older in just a few months. James was no longer a boy eager to curse and hex villains; he was now a man fighting to protect everything he loved. Lily's girlish wishes were lost in the battles of that first year. She no longer dreamed of balls held at Potter Manor, or of goblin made tiaras and fancy dress robes. All she wanted now was to live.

But they had found a light to keep them going: she was to have a child the following year. The news of her pregnancy was a Christmas gift to their families in that dark time. Lily placed her hand softly on her belly, thinking of how something so small could fill her with so much hope.

* * *

_January, 1979- Petunia_

After their elopement, Petunia and Vernon found a small house near her college and close to his job. It was dark, and a bit poky and reminded her of the Snape's house, which she had seen once when she went to fetch Lily. Petunia felt rather sorry as she remembered looking down on poor Severus so much- here she was, just as poor. She didn't dwell on it though; she was too full of love and excitement as she furnished her humble home.

There was a dimly lit drawing room, and she and Vernon had bought a cheap little couch for it. A tiny table for two operated as the dining room but Petunia resolved to make it do. The kitchen was narrow, and its only window looked into a dark alley. But it was hers, and hers alone (quite literally so- only one person could fit in it at a time!). The bathroom was small and its hot water unreliable at best. Petunia and Vernon agreed that a few cold showers was worth the money they were saving though. Upstairs, two little bedrooms completed the house. At the moment, the second bedroom was Petunia's study, as Vernon had already graduated, and was working at a firm called Grunnings. But perhaps in the future, Petunia thought, a little Dursley could occupy that room.

* * *

_Summer 1979- Petunia_

Petunia graduated with honours from her teaching course in June. She was immensely proud of herself, and eager to walk the stage with her parents watching. Perhaps now they would see that she was special, even if she had no magic. She was disappointed when she received a letter from them giving her their regrets. LILY had cautioned them against traveling, due to some sort of silly wizarding war, which made Mr. and Mrs. Evans targets. Vernon held Petunia while she cried bitter tears. Magic had robbed her of yet another small happiness.

* * *

_Valentine's Day 1980- Petunia_

Petunia found herself in tears again, this time for a completely different reason. Tears of joy dripped down her face as she held a positive pregnancy test in her shaking hands. She couldn't wait to tell Vernon. It was Valentine's Day and she remembered the small box of chocolates she had purchased for him. They could afford these small luxuries now that she had been hired as a teacher at the local comprehensive high school, and since Vernon had been promoted. But this, the news of their baby, would be the best gift of all. Their little family was complete.

AN: Hi everyone! Thanks for all the new follows and faves! Let me know what you think of this one!


	4. Chapter 4- Darkness Falls

**TW: death, miscarriage, mention of torture**

_March 1980- Petunia_

It was a surprisingly warm day when Mr. and Mrs. Evans decided to go for a drive to a nearby park. The weather had finally cleared after several days of storming; the couple badly wanted to get out of the house. Mrs. Evans packed a large picnic basket with chicken sandwiches, generous slices of sponge cake and bottles of cold water, along with her pretty checkered picnic blanket. They only meant to be gone for tea. They wanted to be back in time to catch Mr. Evans' favourite television programme that night, Doctor Who. They had plans for the next day and the next. Their future was already mapped out. Truly, no one ever means to leave, and to be gone forever. The wet road had other plans. Mr. Evans hit just the wrong puddle of water, going at just the wrong speed, and spun out of control. The only comfort Petunia had was that neither her mother nor her father felt a thing; it was over just as quickly as it had begun. It was a simple, straightforward, awful accident.

Petunia never realised how much her parents had mattered to her until she received that horrible phone call. She told herself that if she had known what would happen, she would not have been so distant from her parents after their absence from her graduation the previous year. Perhaps then, she would have been able to say goodbye. Perhaps she could have stopped them from going out that day. The things she hadn't done overwhelmed her thoughts.

She regretted not going home for Christmas when her parents had invited her and Vernon.

She regretted not telling them about her baby.

She regretted not forgiving them for loving Lily more.

She would never get to tell them now, that it didn't really matter. That her life was good, and she loved her husband and her future child. She would never get to tell them that she loved them anyway.

Regret was her constant companion.

Petunia returned to her childhood home to make the funeral arrangements and to pack up her parents's belongings. Petunia threw herself into sorting out her parents' things. There wasn't a great deal; they had been simple people. Lily was nowhere to be found. She sent a letter apologising for her absence, but, 'the war, you see'. The Evans' favourite daughter would not see them off to the great beyond.

Petunia chose simple caskets and arranged for them to buried next to each other at the graveyard. The day of the funeral was beautiful, and it made her heart hurt even more. How dare the sun shine, birds sing and children laugh when her parents were gone forever? It wasn't fair.

So many people Mr. and Mrs Evans had befriended over the years came to give her their condolences. Several told Petunia how pleased her parents were that she had become a teacher, causing tears to spring to her eyes. She never really truly believed until then that they were proud of her.

Much to Petunia's (petty) satisfaction, Lily's absence raised eyebrows. If she were honest with herself, she would have admitted that she wanted her sister there. She felt horribly adrift and wished Lily were there to anchor her. Lily, who knew their father's deep, rich laugh when he heard a good joke, and who would remember their mother's soft, gentle humming while she sewed. Lily, who, even as the privileged favourite, understood what it meant to be an Evans daughter.

But Lily wasn't there.

* * *

_May, 1980 - Petunia_

Petunia's grief came and went in waves. Some days it hung over her like a black cloud; on others, she could remember her parents with a smile. She slowly began to recover. Vernon did his best to distract her when it became too much, and to give her space when she needed it. She loved him more for it.

The doctor informed her that she was about three months along, and the baby started feeling very real to her. She wondered what sort of mother she would be. She knew, as much as she had loved her parents, that she would never, ever favour one child over another the way they had. She wondered if the baby would be magical, because of Lily. She didn't know quite what she would do if that were the case. She didn't think herself capable of raising a magical child. But, whatever her child was, she resolved to be the best mother she could be.

On the 15th of May, 1989, at 4 o' clock in the afternoon, Petunia Dursley went for a walk. In one of the boxes of things from her parents' house, she had come across an old photo album containing pictures of a family holiday in France when she was fifteen. The combination of seeing her parents alive and happy, her and Lily with linked hands and smiling faces, and her pregnancy hormones was too much. Vernon found her in a sobbing mess in their small drawing room and shooed her outside for some fresh air and sunlight.

* * *

_15th of May, 1980- Vernon_

He had found Petunia crying again, damn hormones. He patiently sent her out for a walk while he tidied the photographs, and repacked the box she had been searching. He thought it might be nice to treat her to a little candle light dinner (literally the regular dinner they would be having, but with candles lit; Vernon was not the most imaginative of men, but he tried).

He was upstairs when he heard the front door creek open and some odd crashing sounds. Surely Petunia wasn't back already? Perhaps it was a neighbour.

'Who is it? I'm upstairs, I'll be a minute,' he called, placing the box of photos back into the small closet.

'Worthless muggle,' a man sneered from right behind him.

Vernon jumped, and turned around. Several people in a silver masks and black robes stood behind him. Suddenly, Vernon found himself jerked off his feet and thrown roughly in to a chair and bound.

'Who are you? What the bloody hell is this?' shouted Vernon, angry and bewildered, as he struggled against his restraints.

'Aw, did little wifey not tell you about her sister's dark secret?' giggled a masked woman, with dark hair spilling out from under a hood.

With a sinking heart, Vernon realised that these people were magic, like Petunia's sister. But not the good sort.

'What do you people want?' whispered Vernon, already knowing the answer.

'Where's the mudblood's sister?' snarled another man.

'Petunia's not here!' lied Vernon, desperately hoping that she would not come back early.

'Where is she, then?' purred the strange woman softly. 'Tell us dear, we'll leave you be if you do.'

'She's… at her sister's! She's visiting Lily!'

'What a shame,' sighed the woman, twirling a stick between her long fingers, 'I did so want to play with her. But I suppose we can have some fun with you!'

'_Crucio_'

Vernon endured the blinding pain over and over again, holding onto the hope that Petunia would not return. Finally, a green light lit the room. His last thought was of her.

_Pet._

* * *

_15th May, 1980- Petunia_

The walk livened her spirits and she found herself smiling as she remembered the vacation from the photographs. The Evans' had stayed in the most derelict little rental, with a leaky roof and draughty windows. Her father had joked that they were finally camping and made them giggle. They had gone to Paris, and seen the Eiffel Tower. Petunia remembered some French boys trying to talk to her and Lily. She laughed at the memory of poor Lily repeating the only the French words she knew 'oui, baguette, oh là là!' and receiving an abundance of bread for her efforts. Smiling, she hurried home to tell Vernon the silly stories.

As she approached the house, a sense of dread overcame her. Something was wrong.

The door was wide open. Vernon would never leave it like that.

The small table was turned over.

The couch was ripped open.

The house was too still.

Petunia's heart thudded painfully in her chest, and her breaths came short and shallow. Her legs moved automatically, taking her upstairs. Vernon lay in the bedroom, his eyes open and glassy, not a mark on his body. Petunia stared at him. This wasn't Vernon. It couldn't be. Vernon was waiting for her somewhere so she could tell him about the Paris trip. Vernon was alright. This was a stranger.

Her eyes fell upon the wedding ring on his finger. They had giggled like a pair of naughty children at the purchase of those simple rings. They had promised that no matter how rich they got, they would never replace them. And now the hand that wore that ring was cold. A sudden wave of grief washed over Petunia. Vernon was dead. The shock brought her to her knees as she let out an inhuman wail. Horror engulfed her and she doubled over as a terrible cramp in her belly ripped through her and she knew that the life she had held inside her was dying. The last thing she had of Vernon, and her last chance at happiness was bleeding out of her. She began to scream. And she did not stop screaming until her voice gave out.

AN: Hey everyone! Please let me know how you think the story is going. Thanks so much for checking it out! xx


	5. Chapter 5- Sanctuary?

_16th May 1980- Petunia_

'Poor thing… we just found her here, next to the dead muggle…'

'…think her mind's proper gone.'

'…dratted death eaters… it's got Bellatrix Lestrange written all over it!'

'…won't speak, must be in shock, poor girl.'

'Lily Potter's muggle sister, they're saying…'

'Healer said her babe is gone too, poor wee thing.'

'Petunia? It's Lily. I've come to take you home.'

* * *

_June 1980- Petunia_

For weeks, Petunia didn't know where she was, and she didn't care. She thought she heard Lily trying to speak to her at one point, but that couldn't be right; Lily was too busy with her stupid war to even come to their parents' funerals. Why would she come now?

Voices drifted in and out of focus but Petunia preferred to ignore them in favour of the blissful darkness that enveloped her most of the time. Awareness meant remembering that Vernon and their baby were gone, and remembering that meant pain. So, she remained in the quietest, darkest corner of her mind.

Slowly, however, she emerged. Sometimes, she noticed someone spooning a savoury liquid into her mouth. Other times, she felt someone holding her hand and humming the way her mother did when she was little and sick. She became more and more aware of her surroundings. The bed she lay on was soft and comfortable with fluffy pillows and warm blankets. The room was painted a soft yellow and fitted with plain white furniture. Lace curtains fluttered as a cool breeze entered the room through the open windows. Wind chimes tinkled gently and Petunia was lulled into a pleasant daydream of childhood summers. She had loved curling up in the porch swing with books, and listening to the wind chimes that her father had hung outside. A small bookcase held what appeared to be some of her childhood favourites- Enid Blyton, Little House on the Prairie, and even several Agatha Christie novels.

Fuelled by curiosity, Petunia sat up carefully and unsteadily climbed out of bed as she tried to work out where exactly she was. If this was a hospital, it was the absolute fanciest she had ever been to! She remembered her one stay at the local hospital in their village, after she had gotten her tonsils out. That place had been all shiny floors and noisy activity, and had smelt strongly of antiseptic. This well-appointed, peaceful room was more like a posh bed and breakfast and all she could really smell was lavender.

Her feet sank into the thick carpeting that covered the floor as she padded across the room to the window. Expecting to see a street or an alley, she was surprised by the lush forests and expansive grounds that met her eyes. Now properly confused, Petunia decided to explore the room, and perhaps the building some more. She spotted a door on the other side of the room, and behind it found a pretty bathroom complete with a clawfoot tub. With a pang, she remembered how Vernon had promised her one when they moved and 'got rich' as he had liked to say. Shaking it off, she opened a small cabinet and found that it held a toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, lotion and several bottles of shampoo and conditioner. They were all the sort that she had used as a teenager; someone had clearly stocked the bathroom and bedroom with things she liked. Suddenly, a pop sounded behind her, and she whirled around to see a small creature with bulging eyes.

'Miss is feeling better! Soosa is pleased! Soosa will call Mistress Lily!' the strange little creature squeaked excitedly.

'What?' gasped Petunia, gaping at the strange little thing, 'What are-.'

Petunia cut herself off. The creature mentioned Lily, so this must be Potter Manor. She didn't recognise it, as she had only seen a small part of it for the wedding so long ago. Besides, she'd meant to ask the creature what it was, and that was probably rude. It had disappeared anyway, so she sat on a comfortable rocking chair to wait for her sister.

'Tuney!'

Petunia turned to see Lily, and felt the familiarity of home wash over her. The sisters embraced and for a moment Petunia felt as though she was in her mother's arms again. The hug was only made slightly awkward by the fact that Lily was almost nine months pregnant.

'Tuney… I'm so sorry,' said Lily softly, grasping Petunia's thin hands, 'I'm so sorry I wasn't there when mum and dad died, and I'm sorry I didn't protect you from this war.'

Petunia opened her mouth to reply, to say all the mundane things one says in response to receiving condolences; she had said them at their parents' funeral easily, but now she couldn't. She wanted to scream at Lily for pulling her into this war that she had nothing to do with, for destroying everything she loved. But she couldn't. She choked on the words as she tried to speak and an unbearable sorrow washed over her. It hurt too much to acknowledge her loss out loud. She wasn't ready for it to be real yet.

'It's alright, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to,' murmured Lily, as she reached to hug Petunia, 'but you must know, you're safe now. I'll keep you safe.'

Despite all that Petunia held her sister responsible for, and all the things she held against her, she knew in that moment that Lily would protect her and she let herself sink into the familiar arms. This might not have been the home that she was used to, or the one that she wanted, but it was a sanctuary.

* * *

_June 1980- Lily_

Lily was relieved that Petunia was awake and recovering somewhat. She felt great guilt at the terrible losses her sister had suffered; after all, if she weren't involved in the war, Petunia would never have been targeted. She should have expected this and protected her but she never thought the death eaters would attempt to attack her magic-hating sister to hurt her. Petunia had hardly even spoken to her in the last year and Lily had barely given her sister a second thought. Now, however, she was determined to keep her sister safe, no matter what.

'Lily, dear! How is your sister?' James' mother, Euphemia, smiled at her warmly, as she entered Lily and James' rooms, 'I hear she is recovering rapidly.'

'Oh yes, she's up and about now,' replied Lily, cautiously. The Potters considered themselves a Light family, and had happily accepted her, a muggle-born witch, into their fold but Lily wasn't sure how they would receive an actual muggle.

'Ah, lovely!' exclaimed the elder Mrs. Potter, 'I'm sure she would like to get back to her life as soon as possible.'

Lily stared at her. 'What? No! She won't be safe… she was targeted because of me, because of what James and I do!'

'Oh my dear, your sister would never be comfortable here,' said Euphemia, her tone growing chilly. 'Muggles simply don't belong in the magical world.'

'She's my sister! I have to keep her safe!' snapped Lily, in an uncharacteristic show of temper. Until now, she had gotten along perfectly well with Euphemia Potter.

Euphemia lost any semblance of warmth. 'Lily, you might be born of muggles, but you are a witch, first and foremost. You cannot exist in two worlds at once. Did you not distance yourself from your parents before they died? You must do the same with your sister.'

Lily gasped in horror at the cold suggestion. Abandon Petunia after all she had been through? Lily couldn't. Lily wouldn't.

'No, I can't do that. I don't care that she's a muggle, she's my sister. If she's not welcome here, then I'll leave and take her somewhere else!' declared Lily hysterically, clutching her belly for comfort.

Euphemia looked at her daughter in law with exasperation, 'Alright dear, alright. Do calm yourself, the stress isn't good for the baby. Your sister can stay, of course. I only worry for you, being saddled with a helpless muggle.'

'Thank you,' replied Lily, calming down, 'I'm sure Petunia won't be much trouble.'

Lily had always suspected that the Potters did not love muggles as much as they led Albus Dumbledore to believe and this confirmed it. But at least Petunia was safe for the time being.

AN: Thank you SO much for the lovely reviews! They really mean a lot to me. I hope you enjoyed this update! xx


	6. Chapter 6- A New Purpose

_July 1980- Petunia _

Although Petunia was now awake and aware, she was still lost in a fog of sadness. She was surrounded by magic but barely noticed it; Vernon's death had taken all the colour out of her world. Mornings were the worst; waking up and remembering anew what had happened overwhelmed her in a jarring rush of grief and it took everything she had to get up. Few things appealed to her. She paid little attention to the enchanted portraits that adorned the walls of Potter Manor. She hardly tasted the food that Soosa the house elf brought to her. She could barely even rouse herself to be fascinated by the house elves that occasionally popped in and out of her room to attend to her needs. Even the books that Lily had carefully stocked her room with held little interest for her.

Through it all, however, Lily stayed by her side. She never forced Petunia to speak, instead opting to sit with her in silence, a comfortingly familiar presence. Even James, who had played dozens of stupid pranks on her when they were teenagers, was uncharacteristically kind to her.

'Bad luck, old thing,' he had said, awkwardly patting her on the shoulder. It wasn't the most eloquent of speeches, but Petunia appreciated it all the same.

She quietly reflected on the changes the war had brought about in her sister and her brother in law. They were more quiet, and serious. Lily was certainly kinder and less boastful. James had not played a single trick on her since she had come to stay. The war seemed to have given him purpose and direction. Strangely enough, it had brought out the best in both of them. She wondered if the war were to end soon, would they go back to their carefree selves?

Sometimes, the sisters would take quiet walks in the beautifully manicured gardens, and Petunia found herself asking about various plants and flowers. It gradually became easier to speak of commonplace things like the garden and the house; she could not yet talk about the loss of her child and husband. Her throat ached with tears that threatened to spill over, and stopped the words from coming out. Even asking after Lily's pregnancy was difficult, and Lily- to her credit- never pushed the subject. But the child- Petunia's niece or nephew- would be born soon, and she wanted to be there for her sister as Lily had been for her. Seeing the small nursery Lily and James had set up was difficult at first, but spying some of the baby books that had been Lily's brought back happy memories. While learning to read, Petunia had often read 'Goldilocks and the Three Bears' and 'Rumpelstiltskin' to her little sister and had felt so grown up. She thought she might like reading to Lily's baby too, in this bright and airy room.

As the days passed, Petunia began to open up more to her sister and her new home. Once, she found herself laughing with Lily over an old childhood joke, but stopped abruptly, feeling guilty. How could she laugh, when Vernon was dead?

Lily noticed her silence. 'What's wrong, Petunia? Are you alright?'

'It feels wrong to feel anything but sad,' confessed Petunia, a tear slipping down her cheek. 'It feels like a betrayal to Vernon and mum and dad to laugh when they're gone.'

'Oh Tuney,' said Lily, reaching to hug her, 'I don't think anyone who ever loved you would begrudge you any happiness. I never met Vernon but I know he loved you, and I don't think he would want you to feel sad forever. It's okay to be happy again.'

Petunia nodded, her eyes filled with tears. Perhaps it really was alright to let herself heal.

* * *

_July 31st 1980- Lily_

Lily woke up feeling irritated, her back aching terribly. The night before, she and James had had an argument- he wanted to go out to the pub with Sirius, since he had some free time. Voldemort's death eaters had been less active lately and James was bored and restless. But Lily was nearing her due date and the baby could arrive at any time. This wasn't a time for James to be away from home if he could help it. It had turned into a silly row with foolish insults being thrown back and forth- he said she was too smothering, she replied that he was a child- and eventually James had stormed out. She had awoken to a cold and empty bed; he hadn't returned.

'Good morning Euphemia, Fleamont. Have either of you heard from James?' Lily hated pulling James' parents into their squabble, but she was worried. She was still annoyed at Euphemia for suggesting that she abandon her sister. Although her mother in law had not said anything more on the subject, Lily was careful about what she said to her.

'No, of course not. Have you two had a fight?' asked Euphemia, sipping her tea out of a delicate china cup.

'Oh no… he just went out with Sirius last night and hasn't come back,' said Lily airily, trying to mask her displeasure, 'and I'm not feeling quite well, I do wish he wouldn't leave when it's so close to the due date.'

'I'm sure you're fine, the baby won't come for a few weeks. Why, James was a whole month late!' claimed Euphemia, waving her hand dismissively. 'Really, you mustn't try to control him like that Lily, it will only cause problems.'

'Boys will be boys! I'm sure he will turn up soon,' grinned Fleamont, carelessly buttering a piece of toast.

Lily gritted her teeth and forced herself to smile and nod. She excused herself to lie down as her cramps and backache intensified. She was curled up in pain when she heard Petunia entering the room.

'Lily! Are you alright?' asked Petunia, gently shaking her.

'It hurts, everything hurts,' groaned Lily. Suddenly, she felt her robes soaked with a wet warmth. Her water had broken.

'Oh my goodness, I think you might be having the baby!' shrieked Petunia in alarm, and rushed off, calling for Soosa.

Minutes later, the house elf appeared at Lily's side and she whimpered at her to fetch the healer and James. Healer Crowe arrived through the floo downstairs and hurried to Lily's room where she confirmed that Lily was in labour and that the baby was coming quickly.

Soosa popped back in, looking distressed and Lily could hear her whispering to Petunia that she had found James with Sirius, both drunk and passed out. Lily was in too much pain to care, and called for her sister who dutifully stood at her side and held her hand. Pain blinded her as her contractions intensified and Healer Crowe cast several pain relieving spells, but even those could do only so much. She squeezed poor Petunia's hand and cried out fruitlessly for James.

Finally, with one last push, a welcome cry sounded. Lily's baby, a little boy, was here. Healer Crowe handed her the squirming bundle and she gazed into his green eyes, a reflection of her own.

'Harry… we'll call him Harry,' she whispered to Petunia, who was sitting next to her on the bed.

'After dad?' murmured Petunia, her voice shaking a little.

'Yes… Harry Potter,' smiled Lily, stroking the baby's face.

'Hello, Harry,' said Petunia softly, gazing at her father's namesake.

Lily was happy; her sister, who she had long given up on, was by her side, and her baby was in her arms. The only flaw in her beautiful picture was James' absence.

* * *

_October 1980- Petunia_

The months that followed Harry's birth saw James redeeming himself by becoming the most attentive father and doting husband he could be. He was very contrite about missing Harry's birth, and after Lily berated him to her satisfaction, he was somewhat forgiven. Petunia smiled as she observed her brother in law rushing around, trying to get Lily to lie down as much as possible, changing nappies and trying to learn as much as he could about babies from the new nursemaid house elf, Topsy. He even held his tongue when it came to the name Lily had given their baby.

'"Harry"? Are you sure Lilyflower? Wouldn't you prefer a more… regal name? Perhaps say, after MY father, Fleamont?' started James tentatively.

'Harry is perfectly regal! It was my dad's name! Are you saying my dad wasn't a regal person?' wailed Lily in response, her eyes dramatically brimming with fake tears.

'Of course he was!' James assured her frantically, desperately attempting to avoid the dog house again. 'Harry is a wonderful name! I can't think of a better one!'

Petunia and Lily had a good giggle at his discomfort and all seemed well at Potter Manor. Indeed, James, Lily and Harry made the perfect family, and Petunia sometimes wondered if she was intruding. She tried to sidle out of the rooms to give them space, and prepared herself to be the lonely soul she was as a child, the uncomfortable fourth addition to her family's cozy trio. But her younger sister wouldn't let her. Lily insisted on her presence and company and would pull her into conversations and asked for her opinion and guidance frequently. Petunia would sadly remind her that she wasn't a mother… what advice could she possibly give? And Lily would point out that she had a degree in teaching children, and Harry was a child, so she must know something!

As Harry got a bit older, Lily became more willing to leave him in the care of Petunia and Topsy when she and James went on Order meetings. As she held her nephew in her arms, Petunia thought with pain of the child she had lost and who she would never hold or see. But whenever Harry gazed at her with his big green eyes, and babbled to her in his baby language, Petunia felt the hole in her heart heal just a little bit more. And when her sister hugged her and told her how much her help meant to her, Petunia's spirits lifted. A little magic had trickled into her world.

* * *

AN: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far! Let me know what you thought of this update, and look out for the next chapter next week!


	7. Chapter 7- Fidelius

_January 1981- Petunia_

Petunia's hard won peace was interrupted by an elderly wizard wearing bright turquoise robes decorated with an elaborate moving underwater scene. Albus Dumbledore visited Potter Manor in the new year with bad news. Lily and James were ushered into the mansion's vast library while Petunia remained in their apartment with Harry. Professor Dumbledore had looked grim; Petunia felt a cold knot of uncertainty in the pit of her belly. The past few months had been positively blissful- she and Lily were now closer than ever, Harry adored his auntie, and she had even developed an appreciation for James' sense of humour. They had become her family in every sense of the word.

It seemed hours before Lily and James emerged from the library, their faces drawn and worried. To Petunia's surprise, she was called in to meet with Dumbledore. She had never spoken to him, aside from the letter she had secretly sent to him when Lily had just been accepted to Hogwarts. She felt a little embarrassed now, and wondered if he thought her a silly child still.

'Ah Petunia! Have a seat, my dear. Lemon drop?' Dumbledore welcomed her into the room. 'It's lovely to finally meet you.'

His eyes twinkled at her and she felt a little more at ease and greeted him politely.

'Now, unfortunately we've gotten some information that Potter Manor is not longer quite safe for any of you,' said Dumbledore, settling into a comfortable armchair. 'All of you must move, I'm afraid. I've already offered Lily and James a place, but it won't be possible for you to go with them.'

'What? Where shall I go? Back to the muggle world?' asked Petunia, a bit bewildered. She had come to think of Potter Manor as her home, although she knew rationally that she would have to move on someday.

'Unfortunately, yes,' said Dumbledore, gently. 'But you will be under my protection, as well as the Potters'. I shall be moving you to a warded cottage in a small village. You will be out of the crossfire there, and safe.'

Although the most terrible events had led her to Potter Manor, Petunia felt hollow at the thought of leaving it, and her family. She had come to love the beautiful gardens and had made friends with several of the house elves (much to Euphemia's dismay!). Her distress must have been written on her face as Dumbledore patted her hand gently and offered her several more lemon drops and several mint humbugs before leaving.

Not a week later, Petunia and Lily stood in front of Potter Manor, in the bitingly cold January air, saying goodbye. The sisters clung to each other desperately as time stole away their last moments together. Neither spoke the terrible truth- they didn't know if or when they would see each other again. So they told each other kind lies.

'Promise me you'll be okay,' choked Petunia, fiercely hugging her sister. 'Promise me, Lily!'

'I promise, Tuney,' said Lily tearfully as she cuddled Harry. 'We'll be together again when this is all over, I swear it. And you must promise as well.'

Petunia made her empty promise to her sister, pressed a kiss to Harry's head, and then watched bleakly as her sister, nephew and brother in law disappeared together with a soft pop. Save for her and Dumbledore (dressed in fuchsia robes today), Potter Manor stood empty and desolate. Euphemia and James' father, Fleamont, had already relocated to their mansion in France with their house elves. Now, only Petunia remained to be taken somewhere safe.

'Now, take my arm, that's a good girl,' said Dumbledore, cheerfully tucking Petunia's arm in his. 'Now I do hope you don't get seasick! Apparition can make one quite nauseous, especially the first time.'

'Oh, actually I d-' Petunia began, thinking of the one time she and Lily had decided to go boating. She had not stepped foot on another sea faring vessel since!

However, she was interrupted by the strangest sensation of being thoroughly squeezed and spun about. She imagined that this was what being in a dancing anaconda's embrace might feel like. Just as it had begun to get unbearable, it was over and her feet hit solid ground again. If not for Dumbledore's firm grip on her, she would have fallen over.

As her nausea subsided, and the world stopped spinning, she looked up to see where they had landed. They seemed to be on a little path in the middle of the woods. Tall, bare trees towered above them, and snow crunched beneath their shoes as they walked slowly to the cottage Dumbledore had promised her. Their walk was so relaxed, a passerby might have thought they were just a pair out for a country stroll. As they traipsed along the path, Dumbledore chatted with Petunia about her career in teaching, the books she liked to read, and the things she enjoyed cooking. He seemed delighted at her offer of pasta for supper one day. By the time they arrived at the ivy covered cottage, Petunia felt as though she and the elderly wizard were old friends.

The quaint cottage, surrounded by trees, was straight out of a fairy tale with its cozy brick structure. There was a bright open kitchen and dining area, with plenty of windows. The drawing room had comfortable couches and chairs and even a fireplace. A little trapdoor in the floor led to the cellar beneath the house. Upstairs, the attic had been converted into two tiny bedrooms and a neat little bathroom. There were bookshelves covering the walls of the house, and Petunia realised they held many of her favourites. There was even a telly in the drawing room, and fairly modern appliances in the kitchen. A copy of the Daily Prophet- the wizarding newspaper- lay on the table; Dumbledore had ordered a subscription for her so that she would be able to keep up with the war news. Petunia was touched; despite all his other responsibilities, Dumbledore had gone out of his way to ensure that she was comfortable.

'Now, you shall be safe here. The house is warded, and Voldemort's death eaters won't be able to find you. And, before I forget…' Dumbledore paused as he searched his numerous pockets, emptying them of various sweets, quills and odd pairs of socks. Eventually he produced some papers.

'Aha! Here are the banking documents that Lily has provided for you… you needn't work if you don't want to,' said Dumbledore, smiling at her kindly, 'perhaps you can practice more pasta recipes.'

'Thank you Professor,' said Petunia softly, gazing about, 'for everything.'

Before saying goodbye for the last time, Dumbledore introduced her to a brown barn owl, Willow, whom she could use to contact him in an emergency. Then, he was gone, and she was alone again.

In the coming months, Petunia found herself settling into the little cottage and the sleepy village called Cullfield that was now her home. The villagers had been thoroughly curious about the single woman who had moved into the woods overnight, but their interest died down after a month when they had more entertaining things to talk about, such as the butcher's daughter running off with the young plumber!

Despite the money that Lily had provided for her, Petunia decided that it was time to get back into teaching. She offered tutoring to some of the local teenagers about to sit their O level exams and she soon had several eager students. The younger children were a bit more reluctant, someone having spread a rumour that she was a witch because she lived in the woods. Petunia had a good laugh about that; if only they knew! Eventually though, she found herself properly integrated into village life, attending services at a local church, shopping at the little market, and gossiping with some of her neighbours. Every day, she would scan her copy of the Daily Prophet, but saw nothing about Lily and James, and she was relieved. No news was good news as far as she was concerned. She hoped against hope that it would stay that way.

* * *

_Halloween 1981- Lily_

They had been stuck at Godric's Hollow for months. At first, Lily had welcomed their seclusion, believing that it would bring James and her closer together. He had been completely focused on the war effort, and they had not had many opportunities to be alone in their young marriage. Indeed, initially it was as though they were on a second honeymoon, and they delighted in each other's companionship- Lily was certain that she was pregnant again. She prayed that her second child would be born into a more peaceful world. Harry had also begun to display early signs of magic, and it was a source of endless fascination for them as he levitated spoons and vanished foods he didn't like.

However, after a few months, it was clear that they were both suffering from severe cabin fever. Lily ached for her sister and James badly missed Sirius, Remus and Peter. With only each other for company, they often found themselves irritable and unhappy. Only Harry's presence kept them from snapping at each other and Lily longed for a respite.

On Halloween night, that respite came in from particularly horrible source. Lily was putting Harry to sleep in his little room, while James idled downstairs. Suddenly, a crash sounded and the house shook; the front door had been breached, someone had broken in. Lily grabbed Harry and tried to calm him as he sobbed in fear. She could hear voices downstairs. James was shouting for her to run, then he was abruptly silenced. Someone else began to speak, and she knew that the Fidelius charm had failed.

'Potter… _Silencio_!' Voldemort hissed. 'Be quiet boy… I want you to see what happens when you sully pure blood with mud.'

She heard footsteps coming up the staircase, and her breath hitched in terror. She and Harry were about to die. Voldemort entered the room where she cowered with Harry in her arms. She could barely look at his horrible, inhuman face, with its snake-like features.

'Step aside girl, you needn't die. All I want is the boy,'

'No! Never!' screamed Lily, clutching her son.

'Very well,' shrugged Voldemort, '_Avada Kedavra._'

She closed her eyes and held on to Harry, waiting to die.

But death didn't come.

As Voldemort uttered the death curse, a green light flashed, followed by a pure golden light that filled the room. She heard an agonising shriek of pain come from Voldemort, and the house trembled violently. A terrible cacophony sounded throughout the building as glass objects shattered, windows broke and furniture came crashing down. A gust of cold air told her that the wall had collapsed, and she held on to her son to protect him. Abruptly, it all stopped, and a deafening silence assaulted her senses.

'Lily! LILY!' shouted James, freed from the silencing spell Voldemort had placed on him.

'James,' cried Lily, still on the floor of Harry's room. It was in shambles, but she and Harry were alive and uninjured- save for a small lightning shaped cut on his forehead- and Voldemort was gone.

Voldemort was _gone._

* * *

AN: Thank you to all the reviews, follows and faves! Please let me know how you enjoyed this update! Look out for the update next week :)


	8. Chapter 8- A Year of Peace Part 1

_March 17th, 1982_

Dearest Petunia,

I can't believe that it's been a month since I've seen you. I'm so happy you were able to visit! It was such a great help having you around since Jem was born! I do hope you're considering our offer- Harry loves you so much and he's been a bit cranky about having a new little brother! It would be such a comfort to have you here.

The media circus still hasn't let up, they've dubbed Harry the 'Boy Who Lived'. There's something in the Prophet about him everyday! Little Harry is so famous, for something he won't even remember. I can't even take him to Fortescue's for ice cream without being hounded by reporters and fans. I'm a bit scared about how all of this will affect him as he grows up… I don't want him to be burdened with this label of saviour. It's far too much. James loves it though. He calls Harry his little auror, his little hero.

I know James is pleased that our son saved the wizarding world, but he's still so bothered by Peter's betrayal. He tries not to let me see it but he, Remus and Sirius are often locked up in the library talking about it, wondering what they missed. I do wish he'd let it go; Peter was always a bit of a rat. Besides, he's in Azkaban now, he can't do any more harm to us. James is also a bit put out that it was Severus' tip that led Dumbledore hiding us. Not a day goes by that I don't hear about 'Snivellus'. It's infuriating- the man saved our lives!

I'm just relieved we survived, but James can't even let himself be properly happy over Jem's birth. He has been so irritable and restless of late. He's always out with Sirius and never wants to be with me, Harry and Jem. I think he misses the war, misses the thrill of it all. I don't understand it. Peace is what we fought for, and now he's bored and unhappy. I do wish you were here, Tuney. I could use the company.

Love,

Lily

* * *

_March 20th, 1982_

Dear Lily,

How are you, dearest? And how are my nephews? I've thought about your offer, and while it sounds lovely, I've made a proper home here in Cullfield. A teaching post recently opened up at the village school, and I've decided to take it. You remember Mum and Dad leaving a bit of money for us… well, I've used my share to buy the cottage from Dumbledore! I do miss you though, and I promise to come visit again soon. Also, I'd love for you to come visit me! The cottage isn't as grand as Potter Manor but perhaps it could be a refuge from all that war talk. I can guarantee that no magical reporters will be here!

I must say, I AM impressed by Severus… what a terribly brave thing to do, to betray that awful dark lord like that! I never would've thought of Severus being a double agent, James Bond type. James is just a bit jealous, his friend turned out to be the traitor, and yours, the person he hated for so long, ended up being the one who turned the war to your side. It's got to be a bit galling. I'm sure he'll get over it though! And as for being restless… I suppose the war was such a huge part of your lives that he doesn't know what to do with himself now that it's over. I hope he realises how blessed he is! Anyway, I hope you're well! I'll see you soon!

Your loving sister,

Petunia

* * *

_September 15th, 1982_

Dear Petunia,

Something terrible has happened. Harry has lost his magic.

Jem is only seven months old and he's regularly displaying accidental magic, just as Harry was when James and I were in hiding. But Harry hasn't done a single bit of magic since the night Voldemort attacked. Dumbledore examined him and confirmed it… he must have lost his magic in the attack. Petunia, whatever shall we do? He can't possibly defend himself if Voldemort were to return. How will he live comfortably in our world if he has no magic? I am so afraid. Dumbledore tells us not to worry, that perhaps Harry will recover his magic in time, but there's no guarantee. From what I've read, it should have come back within a year of the attack and it hasn't. We're not telling anyone outside of the family for now... there are death eaters still on the loose and they've been hunting down old Order members. Our friends Alice and Frank Longbottom were attacked recently, and we fear they may never recover.

Euphemia and Fleamont keep saying that we need to give Harry up, somewhere he'll be safe. But James and I know we can never do that. He's our son. Besides, Potter Manor is safe, there is no safer place, except maybe Hogwarts. We will protect him. At least we agree on this. He's so distant from me now, and I fear it's not just this bad news about Harry. The war united us in a way that peace doesn't, and now that it's over… Never mind. I am being silly, and upset over poor Harry.

I am just so worried about Harry. Will he be upset about not having magic when he's older? Will he be safe? Thank Merlin you're around. I know you can guide us in raising him. And he'll have you to look up to. It WILL be alright, won't it Tuney?

Yours,

Lily

* * *

_September 16th, 1982_

Lily,

I KNOW Harry will be alright. He's got the best mum in the world. I know you're thinking of me, when you worry if he'll be angry about having no magic. But I don't think magic was ever the problem with us dearest. It was always Mum and Dad, and how they made me feel about being 'normal'. I know you won't do that to Harry. I know it will be okay, and I will always be here for you and for Harry.

Love,

Petunia

* * *

_Mr. and Mrs. _

_Fleamont Potter _

_request the honour of your presence _

_at their Halloween Ball_

_on October 31st 1982, 6:00PM_

_at_

_Potter Manor_

_Let's celebrate one year of peace!_

* * *

_October 20th, 1982_

M,

We have got to stop meeting. It's not good for us. I love my wife, and my family. It's not fair to them. This was a mistake. Please don't come to the Halloween Ball. Make any excuse. I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry.

J

* * *

_October 21st, 1982_

J,

You CANNOT be serious! I know you love me, I know you do. She's no good for you. Please don't do this. She will never love you the way I do. She's already given you one squib for a son. It's clear your marriage was a mistake. You can't ignore me. You'll be sorry if you do. I'll be at that ball. I'll show you I'm the one for you.

M

* * *

_October 30th, 1982_

Bellatrix,

There will be a ball at Potter Manor tomorrow night. The wards will be down and they say the child has no magic. Avenge your Lord.

A Friend

* * *

AN: Thank you so much to those who reviewed, and welcome to new followers! Please review and let me know what you thought of this update! xx


	9. Chapter 9- A Year of Peace Part 2

_Halloween, 1982- Lily_

Lily was still reeling from the news that her son was now a squib. Dumbledore strongly believed that Harry's magic had acted as a shield between him and Voldemort, and had been drained as a result. He kept assuring James and Lily that in time, their son would recover, but Lily feared he would not. She was depressed, and scared for Harry. She was in no mood to socialise, and yet Euphemia and Fleamont were forcing a party down her throat.

The elder Potters had insisted on throwing a celebratory ball in honour of the one year anniversary of Voldemort's defeat. Lily was less than thrilled- she did not particularly feel like celebrating the event that had robbed her son of his magic. But Euphemia and Fleamont Potter were strong willed, and the costume party was to take place tonight. Lily was surprised; neither of the elder Potters had been pleased that she and James wanted to continue raising Harry at the Manor.

'He won't belong! He won't be able to go to Hogwarts… where on earth will you send him?' Euphemia had argued, wringing her hands. 'No magical school would accept a _squib_!'

'Oh, there are good muggle schools,' James informed her casually. 'What's that posh one called, Lils? Wheaton?'

'Eton,' said Lily, equally as casual.

But Lily was worried. If Harry's own grandparents wouldn't accept him, what about the rest of the magical world? So far, Harry's lack of magic was a secret from everyone except family and Dumbledore. She was confident that it could remain a secret until it was time to go to Hogwarts. They would have to cross that bridge when they got to it.

She tried to put it out of her mind as she got ready for the ball. Tonight she would be dressed as Persephone, the goddess of spring, and James was going as Hades, the god of the underworld. Her dress robes were pure white chiffon, and she wore crown of flowers, while James was dressed in black and red robes decorated rather luridly with skulls. She glanced unhappily at her image in the mirror, dissatisfied with what she saw. Her robes were expensive, and from a Parisian wizarding shop, yet they looked cheap on her. Her hair was dull and lank, and her skin a little too pale from worry and a lack of sleep. She hadn't managed to lose all the baby weight after having Jem, and she felt frumpy. Lily dreaded seeing all the elegant pure blood witches who the Potters would have undoubtedly invited tonight. A ball was a chance for the Potters to display their wealth and house, but Lily had never felt less like showing off. At least Jem and Harry looked sweet. She had dressed them as little cherubs, and thought that they had never looked more adorable. Harry didn't agree; he wriggled around fussily, objecting to the silly wings. Thankfully, he wouldn't have to wear them for long as he would be put to bed at his usual bed time while the adults enjoyed the ball. Lily wondered irritably if James would stick around or wander off with Sirius. He had hardly been at home lately, and she felt quite lonely. At least Petunia was coming to the ball and would keep her company.

The clicking of heels in the corridor outside her room heralded her sister's arrival. Petunia burst in, the scent of apples and autumn following her. She was dressed as Cinderella, the blue gown bringing out her eyes beautifully. Lily's heart lightened considerably as her sister cheerfully greeted her. Perhaps she might actually enjoy this ball.

* * *

_A few hours later- Lily_

She did not enjoy the ball. Just a few hours into the night, Lily was ready for the party to be over. Several of her school friends had attended and fed her lies about how lovely she looked. She stared at Marlene McKinnon's slender figure in envy. She wore lacy robes over a tight red dress, with horns adorning her hair- the muggle devil. Lily had always been confident that she was prettier than Marlene, but now she felt quite the opposite. James' eyes had widened when he saw their school friend; undoubtedly he too found her attractive. Fine, then, he could entertain her, Lily thought waspishly. She was at the end of her rope having endured far too many thinly veiled bigoted conversations with pure bloods who condescendingly congratulated her on her successful duels with death eaters.

'You've done a wonderful job, for a muggleborn!'

'Who would have thought someone raised by muggles would be so good at magic!'

Lily got a short break when she and Petunia went to put Harry and Jem to bed, and dallied a while, pretending that the boys needed calming down after such an exciting evening. Eventually they had to return to the hall, leaving Topsy to watch over them.

She and Petunia were suffering through yet another rude conversation with an elderly witch who couldn't believe that a muggle had been allowed to attend the ball, when the hall was lit by a bright flash of white light, accompanied by a deafening crack. Lily searched the room frantically for the source of the interruption, and saw a small crowd gathered around something. She rushed over and found poor Topsy, her nursemaid house elf, lying on the floor. Topsy had apparated but was terribly injured, which explained the unusual flash of light and the loud sound.

'Mistress Lily… Topsy tried to stop bad lady… Topsy tried.' The little elf breathed her last.

Lily jumped up and desperately looked for James in the sea of shocked faces. He wasn't there. Of all the times to have disappeared, she thought angrily. She jumped up, calling for her husband and dashed up the steps to her children's rooms. Her heart was pounding and she could barely hear anything except for a panicked roar in her ears. Her worst fears were realised as she entered Harry's room and saw a wild haired woman standing over the sobbing child, wand raised.

'Well, well, look at the ickle baby, all alone,' the witch cooed menacingly. 'Just a silly old house elf to defend their precious babies, how foolish.'

'Bellatrix!' shouted Lily. 'Stop! Leave him alone! _Petrificus Totalus_!'

Her spell missed, but it distracted Bellatrix long enough for Lily to snatch Harry out of harm's way. Soosa, her personal house elf, appeared as soon as Lily called, and apparated with Harry out of the danger zone.

'_Avada Kedavra_!' Bellatrix wasn't hesitant to use an unforgivable curse. Fortunately, it missed Lily. 'You'll pay for the destruction of my Lord!'

'_Expelliarmus_!' screamed Lily, the red light jetting towards Bellatrix, who leapt out of the way.

'I'll get you and your squib brat! _Crucio_!'

Lily gasped in shock- how had Bellatrix known of Harry's condition? Distracted, the torture curse hit her and sent her into a spiral of horrific pain. The pain ended and Lily flung several jinxes at the death eater. She desperately wondering where James was. As Bellatrix hurled more curses at her, she wondered how long she would be able to hold her off. Finally, a memory of curse that she knew Bellatrix would not expect came to her.

'_Sectumsempra,_' Lily hissed and made the slashing motion that Severus had showed her years ago. He had told her that he would never teach this terrible curse to anyone but her, and she hoped he had kept that promise. As Bellatrix's throat opened, and blood sprayed out, she knew he had. The death eater had not expected that curse.

James came running into the room. 'Lily! I just heard someone hurt Topsy, what's happen-'

He stopped as he saw Bellatrix on the floor, dead in a widening pool of blood. Lily sank to the floor, too exhausted to snap at him for not being there. She ignored James' apologies, and wondered what would happen now. Harry was not safe.

* * *

_New Years Eve, 1982- Petunia_

After the Potters' disastrous Halloween party, Petunia had hardly seen Lily. She and James had sequestered themselves in Potter Manor and barely saw anyone, including James' friends. Petunia had visited once since the ball for Christmas and found the mood quite sombre. Her nephews were too little to notice, but the entire manor lacked its usual opulent decorations. Lily had only put up a small tree in their rooms and had the house elves bring up a roast to celebrate. She had gotten some small presents for the boys, and Petunia had brought them some books. The atmosphere was unusually subdued. Even James, who normally loved Christmas, was strangely quiet, and he didn't crack a single joke. Petunia assumed that they were still recovering from their terrible scare, but she hoped that they would soon snap back and enjoy the peace that they had worked so hard for. The death eater who had attacked Harry was dead, and there wasn't anything for them to worry about... was there?

On New Years Eve, Petunia planned to ring in the new year with some of her coworkers from the village school. She had formed several friendships and enjoyed working with them. Her life was quiet, peaceful, and now quite predictable, and she appreciated it. As she got ready, she heard the tell-tale pop of someone apparating in her garden. Peeking through the window, she saw Lily holding Harry's hand.

'Lily! What a surprise! Come in out of the cold.' Petunia welcomed them in, pleased to see her sister. Lily, however, looked drawn and tired. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and her nose was swollen; she had been crying.

'Tuney…' she began, and her eyes brimmed with tears.

'Lily, what's wrong?' asked Petunia quietly, a cold fear coming into her heart. Had something happened to James and little Jem?

Lily inhaled deeply and steadied herself. 'James and I have decided that it's too dangerous for Harry to stay in the magical world.'

'What? What do you mean?'

'I mean… we're giving him up,' said Lily miserably. 'Bellatrix's attack on him shows how vulnerable he is. She knew somehow, that he didn't have magic. Others must know as well. They'll come for him. They won't stop until they kill him. Until they get revenge for Voldemort.'

She continued despondently, 'Tuney, will you take him? You're the only person I trust to ever love him as I do.'

Petunia gaped at her. 'But what if the death eaters come here? I don't understand how that will protect him.'

'We'll tell the wizarding world that he… that he died,' whispered Lily, staring down at her hands. 'It's all been decided. Harry Potter won't exist anymore, but Harry Dursley will. And he can grow up happy, and safe.'

'Lily, you can't do this,' exploded Petunia. 'He's not a doll you can just palm off on me when you've got tired of it! He's your _son_!'

'Don't you think I know that?' sobbed Lily. 'I HATE this! I hate that I can't keep him safe! If you won't help, we'll just find someone else. It has to be done.'

Petunia watched as her sister cried in anguish for a few minutes. 'Lily, I won't pretend to understand this. If Harry were my child, I'd do whatever I could to hang onto him. But you are my sister, and I would do anything for you. Of course I'll take him.'

'Thank you, Tuney,' said Lily quietly, holding Harry close. It was clear to Petunia that Lily did not want to do this. 'After I leave him here, we can never see him again. It must be as though he is dead.'

'Who else knows about this?'

'You and I, James' parents and Dumbledore. Everyone else will believe he's dead.'

'I see. And what should I tell him as he gets older?' asked Petunia, realising dismally that this would be the last time she ever spoke to her sister.

'Tell him that we loved him. More than anything in the world. Tell him that we died.' Lily's voice cracked with emotion. 'He mustn't come looking for the magical world.'

Petunia made the terrible promise. She also gave her word that she would not try to contact Lily and James, her heart breaking as she did it. No matter what she did, she always seemed to lose something. From now on, Harry would be dead to the wizarding world, and it would be dead to Harry. Petunia wanted to shake her sister angrily, but stopped herself as she read the agony in Lily's eyes. Petunia knew what it was to lose a child.

* * *

_The Daily Prophet, January 1st 1983_

_Boy Who Lived, Dead!_

_by Worth Spindle_

_It is a sad beginning to the new year as we write of a terrible tragedy. Lily and James Potter have announced that their son, Harry, succumbed to Dragon Pox this winter. Harry, who turned two in July of last year, is known for his defeat of the Dark Lord. According to Mr. and Mrs. Potter, he was given the best treatment possible, but sadly did not recover. He passed away in the company of his parents, grandparents and brother. It is believed that he was weakened from the Dark Lord's attack, and could not fight the disease. He was interred at the Potter Family mausoleum. According to Fleamont Potter, it was a quiet and beautiful ceremony. _

_Healer Hemrick Ewyn, the head of St. Mungo's Hospital, stated, 'It is a true tragedy and a great loss to the wizarding world. We must work on a vaccine for this terrible illness.' His words have been echoed by many, who grieve the death of the boy who saved us all._

_Rest in Peace, Harry Potter._


	10. Chapter 10- Broken Pieces

_February 1983- Lily_

Harry's 'funeral' in January had been a lovely, quiet ceremony. Dragon Pox was a disfiguring disease and no one blinked at the closed casket, adorned with a simple photograph of Harry from a few months before. Lily mourned her son as though he were really dead. She shut herself into her room after the funeral and wouldn't come out even when Remus and Sirius tried to cajole her into eating some of the canapés that had been prepared by the house elves. She clung to Jem and locked herself away from the world. She never noticed James' distance, and certainly didn't know if he was at home or not. Lily barely spoke to anyone; the one person who would have understood how she felt was now hidden away with Harry, and Lily knew that she and Petunia could not speak again.

Lily did not think it possible, but her world was to shatter again. The morning was sharply cold, snow covering the grounds and the mausoleum that contained Harry's empty coffin. Lily sat at their private dining room table for breakfast, Jem next to her in his highchair, with Soosa feeding him some scrambled eggs and fruit. An owl tapped on the window; their copy of the Prophet had arrived. With the war over, there were very few pieces about deaths and murders, with most articles covering the trials of former death eaters, or human interest stories. Lily nibbled on a hard boiled egg and idly spooned sugar into her tea as she skimmed the cover. Her last name caught her eye, but it was common to see the name 'Potter' in the newspaper now. The contents of the article, however, made her drop her spoon and it clanged loudly against the saucer.

_The Daily Prophet, February 19th 1983_

_Potter you Rotter!_

_By Rita Skeeter_

_James Potter, __hero of the wizarding war, and the__ father of the deceased saviour of the wizarding world, Harry Potter, has been revealed to be an adulterer! Married to Lily Potter, née Evans, since 1978, the heir to the Potter estate was seen in the arms of another woman, Marlene Mckinnon, who is no less than Lily Potter's friend and former classmate. The dirty duo were spotted entering Madame Ruby's Luxury Suites on Knockturn Alley yesterday. A well known inn for illicit escapades, one does not need much imagination to know what must have happened there!_

_Worse yet, this was not their first tryst. Rumours of the couple's affair have been floating around for nearly a year. __Sources say they have seen the pair- in poor and obvious disguises- at Madame Ruby's regularly since February of last year. James Potter was positively identified on multiple occasions by his family ring which he never thought to glamour or remove. Marlene McKinnon was also identified by a distinctive necklace that she wears often. Witnesses said nothing because they did not think anyone would believe them that Potter, a light son of a light family, would do such a thing.__ However, this reporter has photographic evidence of the affair, published below._

_We would like to extend our deepest sympathies to Lily Potter at this time. Not only has she lost a son, but her husband has betrayed her terribly. We can only hope that she finds a way to get through this._

The grainy, moving photographs depicting the naked bodies of her husband and friend writhing together on a filthy bed rendered her motionless with shock. She could only stare at James silently when he entered the room, obnoxiously cheerful. He swore when he saw the contents of the newspaper.

'Lily! Oh Merlin, Lily, I'm so sorry.' James grabbed the Prophet from her, his face going white. 'I ended it, I promise I ended it!'

She wondered numbly if he was distressed because he was sorry, or because he had been caught. Would he have ever told her? She got up and walked past him, ignoring his pleas to wait, to listen, to understand. All she understood was that he had cheated on her, embarrassed her, hurt her. She silently packed a suitcase for herself and a small bag for Jem. She couldn't stay under the same roof with James and she didn't want to even think about the excuses Euphemia and Fleamont would make for their philandering son. Lily went to the floo, a crying Jem in her arms and loyal Soosa by her side, and spoke the name of the safest place she knew, other than Potter Manor or Hogwarts.

'12 Grimmauld Place.'

* * *

_1982- James_

He hadn't meant for the affair with Marlene Mckinnon to go on for so long. It should have been just a one time thing. He had met her by chance one night while out with Sirius shortly after Voldemort's demise. They had begun talking, reminiscing about Hogwarts, and James remembered how much time he had spent with her as a teenager. Lily had always been off with _Snivellus _and it was only in their sixth and seventh years that she had deigned to socialise with him. Marlene's presence, however, had been consistent from their first year, her support unfailing in his rivalry with Snape. Marlene understood his friendship with the Marauders. Where Lily could not grasp the pain of Peter's betrayal, Marlene did. He wondered how he hadn't really seen her before. Talking led to drinks, which led to a light touch, which led to a kiss and then James was lost in her embrace and the night was theirs.

Morning brought a sobering rush of regret; Marlene wasn't Lily, his sweet wife who had fought alongside him. Marlene wasn't the mother of his children. James assured himself that it was just once, and what Lily didn't know would not hurt her. He excused himself for the transgression; he was restless without the rush of battle and he needed an outlet. He promised himself that he would never betray Lily again.

But he did.

Lily was absorbed with the children. She was a good mother, he reflected, but made little time for him. He wanted to talk of the war and past duels, she wanted to speak of peace and plans for the future. He wished he could discuss Peter's treachery, but Lily dismissed him, 'he was always a rat!'. So he owled Marlene. Just this once, but it wouldn't happen again, they promised themselves. Eventually, they stopped pretending that it was just for drinks, just to chat; they both knew what would happen when they met. It wasn't going to be once or twice. They began meeting regularly at a shabby old inn on Knockturn Alley, always in disguise. Some days, he would be blond with blue eyes, and she would have black hair and olive skin. Other times, he would have sandy brown hair, and she would be a redhead. They were sure that no one noticed them, that no one realised who they were. James always felt dirty after, but he couldn't stop. The secrecy, the subterfuge, gave him the high that war provided, that peace never did.

Then came the news of Harry's lack of magic. Lily was obsessed. Was there a cure? Would Harry be happy? Would this affect Harry and Jem's relationship as brothers? She wouldn't stop. James just wanted a reprieve; he wanted to talk about something other than his failure to protect his son. Marlene didn't obsess the way Lily did. She assured him that it wasn't his fault for letting Voldemort overpower him. Perhaps Harry would not have lost his magic if his mother had been a pureblood, she suggested. It was wrong, he knew, but pinning the blame on Lily made him feel better.

Remembering his duty to his family, James half heartedly tried to end things with Marlene several times. He asked her not to come to the Halloween Ball, hoping to simply never see her again, and to forget their affair. But Marlene came anyway. He took her into the garden to rebuke her for coming. Their argument turned into passionate kissing, and he made love to her amongst the shrubs, not caring that his wife and children were nearby.

It was only when they returned to the ballroom that he was told that there had been an attack. While he had been with his mistress, his wife had been fighting to save their children. He was wracked with guilt. He barely spoke to Marlene or even the remaining marauders for the rest of the year, telling them he needed space.

* * *

_February 18th 1983- James_

After Harry's 'death', he decided it was time to end things for good. Lily was too good a wife and mother for him to continue and he needed to be there for her. He met with Marlene one last time at the seedy inn on Knockturn Alley. The usual moans from other occupants of the inn assaulted his ears as he sat on the dirty bed, removing the glamours he wore to disguise himself. The room was chilly and smelt musty; he wondered why this place had ever appealed to him. The bedroom he shared with Lily was clean, bright and scented with fresh flowers. How could he have chosen _this _over that? He gazed absently at a beetle scuttling on the dusty window sill as he planned what he would say. Someone knocked sharply three times at the door, followed by a pause, and then one more knock. It was their code.

'Marlene… I-' he said as he stood up. She rushed into his arms.

'Oh, James! I'm so sorry about little Harry,' she whimpered, holding him in a smothering embrace. 'Is there anything I can do for you?'

He breathed in the strong, sugary perfume she always wore, and thought of Lily's subtle jasmine fragrance with guilt. He detached himself from her, and they sat on the bed, holding hands.

'Marlene… I'm so sorry. But we've got to end this, for real,' said James, his unfocused gaze on the beetle that was now buzzing noisily at the window. 'I've got to be there for Lily and Jem. Harry's... death has been hard on all of us.'

Marlene's eyes filled with tears and her voice trembled when she spoke. 'I understand, James, but won't you be with me, one last time? For old times' sake.'

She leaned over and kissed him deeply, he told himself, just one last time. It couldn't hurt. One last time.

James walked away from their final encounter feeling lighter and happier than he had in a long time. Now that it was over, he would be the best husband and father that he could be. He, Lily and little Jem could go on holiday, perhaps back to that private island where they had gone on their honeymoon, so long ago. The next morning dawned with hope and promises of new beginnings and he walked into their little dining room for breakfast. Lily was already sitting at the table, the Daily Prophet hiding her face.

'Good morning, Lilyflower,' he greeted his wife cheerfully.

She lowered the newspaper and stared at him dully. He glanced at the papers, and felt his heart drop. On display were photographs of him and Marlene from yesterday, his shame in print for the whole world to see.

He begged her to listen, apologised to her over and over as she threw clothing into bags for her and Jem, but she said nothing. She didn't even look at him. He would have given anything to hear her scream at him, call him names. Anything but this silence. He could only watch as she fled their home, with their only remaining child, to Grimmauld Place.

* * *

AN: Thank you to all those who reviewed, followed and favourited! Please let me know if you liked this update :)


	11. Chapter 11- Begin Again

_February 1983- Lily_

Lily staggered through the floo, into Sirius' massive kitchen. He sat at the table, reading the Prophet, an untouched plate of bread and cheese and a swiftly cooling cup of tea in front of him. He had no doubt come across the damning article. Sirius looked furious as he scanned the newspaper but he softened when he saw her.

'Oh, Lily,' Sirius jumped up, and gently guided her to a chair. 'Have a firewhiskey, old girl, you need it.'

Lily sipped the drink and relished the burn as it coursed down her throat.

'Did you know?' Her whisper was jagged from emotion.

'I promise you, Lily, I had no idea,' said Sirius, firmly. 'I would never support James in this sort of thing!'

Lily believed him. For all his womanising, Sirius was always honest.

'Can I stay here, just for a while? I've nowhere else to go and I've got to get away from James for a bit.'

'Of course, Lily, you can stay as long as you like.'

Sirius showed her to a room with lofty ceilings and a large, old wooden bed and dug up an old crib for Jem. He also found some of his old toys for the child to play with and Jem seemed quite satisfied with the situation. Sirius sent up some pork pie and pumpkin juice with his cranky house elf, Kreacher, but Lily had no appetite. At least Jem was happy, she thought, as he gurgled to himself. Soosa was not as pleased. The house was dark and had not been particularly well kept in the last years of Mrs. Black's life. Sirius had only recently moved in and had barely put a dent into cleaning it. Soosa muttered on about the dark and the dust not being good for anyone, but Lily ignored her. A plume of dust rose from the bed as she threw herself on it, exhausted. It took far too much energy to argue. She just wanted to curl up and never speak, or feel again.

In the coming weeks, James attempted to see her and was roughly chastised by Sirius. Lily could hear the shouting from her room.

'How could you, James?' yelled Sirius angrily. 'You loved Lily for so long, and THIS is what you do?'

'You don't understand,' she heard James reply, miserably. 'It was a stupid mistake. I was lost after the war, I just…'

Lily emerged in time to hear his regular excuses.

'A mistake, James?' said Lily coldly. 'A mistake happens once. Anything after that is a choice.'

She turned on her heels and swept out of the room, her head held high.

'Leave now, James, you shouldn't have come,' said Sirius, glaring at him.

James gave her space, but occasionally sent flowers and chocolates for her and toys for Jem. He wrote long letters of apology, begging her to give him another chance. Lily didn't reply; she threw herself into helping Sirius clean Grimmauld Place. She thought she might've stayed there forever; Sirius didn't seem to mind her company. They even took Jem out to Diagon Alley a few times together. She could almost feel normal when the sun was up and Sirius was making her laugh. But in the silence of the night, while she couldn't sleep, she pondered all that she had lost- her first born son, her marriage, her trust in the world. She wondered if she should not have simply left the magical world with Harry when they realised they would have to give him up. Without him, what did she have? A cheating husband? But she also had Jem. It would have been cruel to leave him without a mother, with only James to parent him- James who had put his mistress above his family for the past year. No, as a mother, she would brave this storm for him. So she carried on, an empty smile on her face, and a thin laugh on her lips. Perhaps this was her new normal. She almost got used to it.

A request for an interview from Rita Skeeter changed everything. Lily refused, of course. She didn't need any more publicity than she already had. Rita was not pleased with that response, and she published several articles insinuating that Lily had driven James to infidelity, that she had been abusive towards him, that a muggleborn witch could never be a good wife to a pureblood. She even accused Lily of having an affair herself, with Sirius of all people. The hate mail Lily received was phenomenal. Some simply called her awful names; she could ignore those. Others threatened her and Jem; she took it in stride believing that words of hate couldn't hurt her. She began to feel afraid when a group of angry witches surrounded her and Jem on Diagon Alley one day, shouting at her, questioning Jem's parentage, and even hurling a few hexes at her. She escaped unharmed, but became too fearful to leave the house. Even the confines of Grimmauld Place wasn't safe, and she realised this when she received a cursed letter. Upon picking up the unassuming envelope, it turned into a bright green snake. It hissed and snapped and began making its way to Jem. Lily rushed over and killed the snake, and it turned into dust before her eyes. The threats had become very real. Terrified and completely dejected, she finally reached out to James.

'I am so sorry for what's been going on with the Prophet, Lily,' said James, looking depressed. 'I tried to get Rita to stop, but she threatened to publish more photos of me, and I didn't want you hurt anymore than you already are.'

Lily looked away. The mere reminder of what he had done made her feel ill.

'Lily, please. I promise I'll be a better husband and father to you and Jem, if you only would come home,' pleaded James, grasping her hands. 'I'll do anything. I'll quit my job at the ministry, we can move abroad, wherever you like. Anything to make you trust me again. I can keep you safe.'

The idea of moving to another country suddenly appealed greatly to Lily. She would be able to go outside without receiving pitying glances or hateful stares. She wouldn't be reminded of the son she no longer had. Marlene would be nowhere near them. They could start over.

'Yes,' said Lily, eagerly. 'Let's go away. America, or Australia perhaps.'

James looked surprised, but pleased at her unexpected agreement and left Grimmauld Place to make the arrangements.

Lily thanked Sirius for his hospitality, and felt a jolt of sadness when she realised that she would not see him again for a long time, if ever. He had been good company, and had been remarkably protective over her and Jem.

'If you need anything at all, Lily, remember you can come to me.' said Sirius, looking as sad as she felt.

Lily nodded, and hugged him goodbye. Together, she, Jem and Soosa flooed back to Potter Manor to prepare for the move.

* * *

_February 1983- James_

James was too delighted at getting his wife back to argue against her desire for a hasty migration. He quickly resigned from his post as auror, and made the arrangements to leave the country. Voldemort's war had not touched the United States; it was far away enough for no one to have heard of Lily and James Potter. They could live in anonymity.

'Is this really necessary, James?' said Euphemia disapprovingly, looking at him bundling some clothing into a trunk. 'It's so drastic to move for a silly girl.'

'She's not a silly girl! And yes, mother, if I want to save my relationship with Lily, it is,' replied James, his tone determined. Euphemia and Fleamont had not been pleased to find that Lily had left James, and Potter Manor, with their grandson. James did not expect them to understand why he was leaving the country with her.

Fleamont entered the room. 'You needn't stay with her, son. We can help you get a divorce if you like. Your marriage has served its purpose.'

'What?' James whipped around to face his father. 'What does that mean?'

'Well it was necessary to show how open we were to muggle borns, wasn't it dear?' said Euphemia, her smile sickly sweet. 'Your marriage to Lily brought quite a few pureblood families to the Light side. Now the war is over; you can let that silly childhood fancy die.'

'You don't mean that,' said James feebly. He knew that his parents had approved of his marriage for political reasons, but he hadn't realised that that was the _only_ reason.

'Of course we do!' exclaimed Fleamont. 'We want you to be happy! That's why we got rid of-'

He cut himself off. James stared at him.

'Got rid of what, Father?' said James sharply.

Fleamont and Euphemia exchanged a look.

'We should tell him,' said Fleamont. 'He ought to know.'

Euphemia nodded. Panic engulfed him. What were they talking about?

'You and Lily were so stubborn about Harry,' said Euphemia. 'You wouldn't give him up, we had to do something! We couldn't have a _squib_ in the family!'

'What? What did you do?' James whispered, horrified.

'You and Lily had to understand… it wasn't just about us, the Potter family lineage. It was about his safety,' said Fleamont. 'He never would have been safe in the wizarding world, and you had to see that.'

'We arranged for Bellatrix Lestrange to pay him a little visit,' said Euphemia, as calmly as though she were telling him about a trip to Diagon Alley. 'We knew you and Lily would save him and kill her. And then you'd understand.'

'My son!' gasped James. 'You almost had my child killed!'

'Don't be dramatic,' snapped Fleamont. 'He was never in any real danger.'

'I'll cut you off! I'll tell Lily and we'll never speak to you again!' said James wildly. 'I'll report you to the ministry! You'll go to Azkaban for colluding with a death eater!'

Euphemia smirked. 'If you tell Lily, you'll never see little Jem again. I imagine she'll take him far away into the muggle world. Besides, you've nothing without the Potter estate, dear. And imagine what will happen if everyone finds out Harry is alive. One of those death eaters will surely find him.'

James groaned, knowing that she was right. 'How could you? Harry is your grandson.'

'The house of Potter has never produced a squib, and it never will,' said Fleamont flatly. 'We were not going to begin with your son. Besides, we did you a favour. The child is safe now, and where he belongs.'

His parents stalked out of the room, and James let out an angry roar. He never thought his parents capable of such malice. They were supposed to be good, to be _Light_. He had convinced himself that it had been Marlene who tipped off Bellatrix; she was spiteful enough. The knowledge that his parents were responsible made him sick. He had given up his son in the most permanent way over an imaginary threat. James punched the wooden paneling in a rage, breaking it. He felt trapped; if he told Lily, it would ruin their reconciliation and she would surely leave him for good. If he cut his parents off, reported them to the authorities, he would certainly be disinherited. He, Lily and Jem would have nothing. He would be a pauper. If he didn't say anything, he would have to live with this dark secret. James leaned against the damaged wall, breathing heavily, his hand bleeding. They were already leaving the country. He needn't speak to his parents again, under the guise of going into hiding, he thought. Lily would never know.

* * *

_March 1983- Petunia_

_March 10th 1983_

_Dear Tuney,_

_I hope you and Harry are well. This is the last time you'll ever hear from me. James and I have decided to move to the U.S. I'm sure you've seen the terrible things written about us in the Prophet… it's too hard for us to stay here anymore. I wish we could take Harry with us but how would we explain it? Besides, he will always be in danger in the magical world. I miss you so much. Burn this letter when you're done reading it. I love you and Harry, always._

_Lily._

Petunia folded up the tear stained letter and placed it into the fire, watching her sister's final message curl into ashes. It was the first time Lily had written since leaving Harry with her; for an instant, Petunia thought her sister had changed her mind when she saw the screech owl fluttering towards her. She felt a mixture of relief and despair upon reading her sister's words. Harry had been with her for three months, and he had become everything to her.

At first, he cried and asked for his mother and father. Petunia would redirect him, distract him with his toys and the garden. After a few weeks, he seemed to have gotten used to his surroundings. He asked for James and Lily less and less; Petunia was both pleased that he was settling in, and saddened that he was forgetting his family. The village's curiosity was aroused, as it always was with any new inhabitant. Petunia simply told them that her sister and brother in law had passed away in a car accident, and that she had adopted her orphaned nephew. It was the most mundane explanation she could think of for her nephew's sudden appearance and it was accepted with murmured condolences from her neighbours. Baked goods appeared on her doorstep as they do when one experiences a death in the family and Petunia was grateful. Caring for a toddler was no easy task, especially when there was no house elf to help!

* * *

_May 1983- Petunia_

The stark white of winter gave way to green buds in the trees, and snow turned into rain as spring came. Petunia and Harry found themselves in a comfortable daily rhythm. They would get up at seven, Petunia would feed him a simple breakfast of toast and eggs, and scarf down what she could before work. She would then drop Harry off at a little daycare, and proceed to work. In the evenings, they would walk home together, enjoying the fresh spring air, and looking at the new plants, and emerging fauna. Harry was particularly fond of squirrels and would gaze at them in quiet fascination. Every night Petunia would read to Harry, and watch a bit of telly while having supper. Life was simple and steady. Petunia didn't expect to hear from the magical world again; shortly after Lily had last written, her subscription to the Prophet ended. The door had slammed shut on the wizarding world.

Abruptly, it opened again one day that spring. A quiet pop in the garden woke Petunia up from her Sunday afternoon nap. The days were getting warmer, and both she and Harry found themselves quite sleepy on afternoons, so a nap was in order. Half asleep, Petunia assumed she was dreaming, until someone knocked softly on her door. Cautiously, she peered through the peep hole. It was Albus Dumbledore. Immediately, Petunia opened the door and welcomed him in.

'Petunia, hello my dear, how are you?' said Dumbledore brightly.

'Professor! This is a surprise… please come in,' said Petunia, confused but pleased to see the wizard.

She put up some water to boil for tea and popped some scones into the oven as Dumbledore made himself comfortable in the small drawing room. Harry came wandering out, rubbing his eyes after his nap.

'Hello, Harry,' said Dumbledore fondly. 'How are you, my boy? Have a lollipop!'

Petunia wasn't sure if Harry recognised the wizard or not, but the lollipop Dumbledore gave him sealed him as Harry's favourite person that day. The child wandered about, sucking on the sweet as Petunia and Dumbledore chatted.

'I know that Lily and James decided that it was best for Harry to grow up in the muggle world, without magic.' Dumbledore munched on a buttery scone. 'But I disagreed. We could have protected him, and I believe that he might have been happy.'

'What about the attack at the Halloween ball?' Petunia was baffled. Her sister had been convinced that Harry's life was at risk in the magical world. 'Lily felt sure that he wasn't safe.'

Dumbledore sighed. 'I believe that the attack was set up by someone who knew the Potters, and knew about Harry's condition. It was far too coincidental. I tried to tell Lily and James, but understandably, their one priority was to protect Harry at all costs.'

'Forgive me, Professor, but, why are you really here? Harry has no magic and no place in your world,' said Petunia, fixing a steely gaze on him. The elderly wizard smiled.

'I'd like to keep an eye on Harry, as he grows up. When he's older, he will be free to make his own decisions regarding the magical world. I would like to be there to guide him.'

Petunia nodded. It was overwhelming, being the sole caretaker for a small child. She often stayed awake at night wondering what would happen to her nephew if something befell her. Knowing that Albus Dumbledore was looking out for Harry made her feel better, even if he had his own, unclear motives.

* * *

_August 1986- Petunia_

Over the next few years, Harry grew into a smart, happy boy and his teachers often complimented Petunia on his manners and knowledge. The woods they lived in provided the perfect playground for a curious, growing child. Dumbledore kept his promise and visited often. Petunia told Harry that the professor was an old family friend, and he and Harry grew quite close. Harry adored the old man, and not just because he got sweets whenever he visited! Petunia and Dumbledore continued to respect the Potters' wishes; Harry was never told about magic.

The August after Harry's sixth birthday saw a summer as hot as the one just before Lily's wedding. There was barely any wind… any breeze that blew was hot and stifling. The scorching heat only added to Petunia's temper one evening. Harry was at that very special age where he deemed absolutely nothing edible except chicken nuggets. Petunia knew it was entirely her fault; chicken nuggets were like drugs for small children. She should never have allowed him to have even a single one. She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration and exhaled loudly. Harry glared mutinously at the carrot sticks in front of him.

'Harry. Dursley.' she ground out, through gritted teeth. 'I am going into the garden so I don't shake you to bits, and when I come back, I want those carrots GONE. Or else there will be NO telly tonight!'

Harry's lip quivered. No telly? For a boy of six, she might as well have executed him on the spot.

Petunia stomped out into the garden and began to furiously weed her dying flower bed. As her hands worked, she began to calm down and saw the humour in the situation: she was waging an epic battle with a six year old over vegetables and he was winning. She laughed to herself and relaxed as a cool gust of air wafted into the garden, breaking the oppressive heat. In the distance, she could hear the low rumble of thunder, signalling the beginning of a summer storm. Rain began to patter down gently, and she inhaled the fresh scent of the wet earth. Revived, Petunia entered the little kitchen wondering if her nephew had eaten even one carrot stick. She came in just in time to see a single piece of carrot hover mid air, then vanish. Harry wore a guilty look; Petunia wore a shocked one.

Harry had his magic back.


	12. Chapter 12- Dear Mr Dursley

_July 1991- Petunia_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump,_

_International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Dursley,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Harry bounced around the small cottage waving his Hogwarts acceptance letter around.

'I got in! Auntie, I got in, can you believe it?' he yelled, flapping the letter about.

'Congratulations, sweetums.' Petunia grabbed him to squish him into a hug. 'Aren't you a clever little boy?'

'I'm not little!' wailed Harry, properly trapped in his aunt's embrace.

Petunia laughed, and sighed. He truly was no longer the sad, lonely toddler who had come to her all those years ago. Harry had grown up to be a thin, wiry child, with messy black hair and unfortunate eyesight. He wore round glasses that he complained about; they always got in the way when he played football with the other children in the village! But Petunia thought he looked adorably intellectual and polished, and never missed an opportunity to embarrass him by taking photographs of her 'handsome little baby!'. Dozens of snapshots of him decorated the walls of the cottage: wearing Scooby-Doo swim trunks at his first seaside holiday, eating ice lollies with his aunt at the village fair, being kissed by a giraffe at the zoo (much to his horror!), and celebrating each birthday since he first lived with Petunia. Lily had been right about one thing- he had been happy in the muggle world. Despite being thoroughly indulged by his aunt, Harry remained a kind, hard working child, and Petunia could not have been prouder.

However, the return of his magic at age six meant that Petunia could no longer keep her promise to Lily. She had to tell him about the wizarding world, and his family. She even reluctantly tried to contact Lily, despite her promise not to do so. The letters came back unopened, and from Willow's confused and irritated hooting, she suspected that her sister was magically blocking her mail. Dumbledore explained that Lily and James were probably using cloaking charms, and could not receive letters from anyone from their old lives or England. Petunia was secretly relieved; she didn't want them to take Harry away from her.

Dumbledore tracked them down, and updated her on what he believed to be their whereabouts; it seemed as though they had settled somewhere in the U.S under new names. A witch with Lily's description had accepted a position at the Ilvermony School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as the Charms professor, and a wizard matching James' likeness was working for the Department of Aurors. Petunia and Dumbledore discussed simply going to the U.S and telling them about Harry's magic, but they weren't sure what the Potters would do. What if they took Harry away? It would be too hard for him to jerked from one home to another yet again. Petunia begged Dumbledore not to contact them. Harry was all that she had. So they agreed to keep the news of Harry's magic to themselves.

Harry had been confused and sad after learning about what his parents had done; he couldn't understand why his parents would choose to give him up. He struggled with feelings of abandonment for a while. It was truly fortunate that Dumbledore had maintained a presence in their lives- he assured Harry over and over that his parents did indeed love him, and that it had been an impossible situation. Harry was young and resilient and he recovered. It helped that Petunia had provided a happy home for him.

Learning about the magical world distracted the little boy from focusing on his absent parents. Dumbledore gifted him several books, his favourite being 'Hogwarts: A History'. Together, Harry and Petunia read the entire thing, cover to cover. It was a fascinating read for her as well, as she had not known much about the school. They discussed the houses, and Petunia mentioned that both his parents had been in Gryffindor. After reading about each house, Harry couldn't decide if he was more brave than ambitious or more bookish than loyal, and they agreed to accept the Sorting Hat's decision. The other books Dumbledore gave them covered the wizarding war, helping Harry to understand his part in it, and he realised how important it was for him to keep his true identity and parentage a secret. If asked, Petunia and Dumbledore told him to say that he was muggleborn. It saddened Petunia to have Harry deny his history, but it was necessary for his safety.

Later that month, they celebrated Harry's eleventh birthday with a small party of his friends from the village. The affair doubled as a goodbye party, as Petunia had told everyone that he would be going off to a boarding school on a scholarship. Piles of cucumber sandwiches were placed on serving dishes, along with chicken puffs and small tasty beef pies. Jugs of iced lemonade and cold water provided much needed relief from the heat and generous helpings of strawberry ice cream were shared out as dessert. Pencils and pretty erasers, water guns, slinkies and small tubs of modelling clay were distributed as party favours, and the village children agreed unanimously that Mrs. Dursley threw the best parties. Finally, the time came to cut the cake. Petunia had baked a pretty chocolate and vanilla marble cake, with a delicious cream cheese frosting showered in rainbow sprinkles. Harry's face glowed in the light of the eleven candles as his friends sung happy birthday to him and Petunia smiled as he closed his eyes and carefully made a wish. If a school of witchcraft and wizardry could exist, then birthday wishes surely held much power. Magic was now more real to him than it ever was.

* * *

_August 1991- Petunia_

A week later, Petunia took Harry to Diagon Alley to purchase his school supplies. Since it was only two weeks till the start of term, and Cullfield was so far from the London station where Harry's train would depart, Petunia decided to make a holiday of it, and tour the city. She booked accommodations for them in a cosy bed and breakfast called the Camden Lodge. Their room boasted two narrow, but comfortable beds with warm coverlets, a little desk with a pretty Tiffany lamp, and two fat armchairs next to a fireplace. Of course, as it was summer, there was no fire, but it was a still a snug spot to curl up and discuss the day's adventures. They would take their meals downstairs with the rest of the occupants at a communal dining table where the breakfast menu promised porridge with liberal amounts of sugar and cream, accompanied by crusty home made bread and butter, bacon, hard boiled eggs and a selection of boxed cereals with milk. Supper was slated to be various hearty soups, with freshly baked bread rolls and salad. Petunia and Harry would get their midday meals while out on tours.

Dumbledore had arranged for a teacher from Hogwarts to assist Petunia and Harry as she had never been to Diagon Alley. The Evans' had never brought her along to do Lily's school shopping. As soon as she unpacked their things, she hurried her nephew to the meeting spot- a surprisingly innocuous London street. Perfectly normal, and decidedly non-magical shops lined the road. Petunia could see several clothing boutiques, a jewellery store and a fish and chips place. But nothing that looked like a wizarding tavern.

'Mrs. Dursley? Harry?'

Petunia turned around to see a tall, older woman with black hair. She was dressed in a rather severe black suit, and immediately reminded Petunia of her strictest childhood teachers.

'Hello, yes, that's us,' said Petunia, trying not to falter under the woman's stern gaze.

The woman nodded. 'Excellent. I'm Professor McGonagall. Let's cross the road. The Leaky Cauldron is this way.'

Petunia and Harry hurried after her, desperately trying to see where the tavern was.

'Now Harry, just think about the Leaky Cauldron, and you'll spot it,' instructed McGonagall, and gave him an approving look when he found it. 'As a muggle, you can see it, Mrs. Dursley, but only if you know where to look, and if you look hard enough. Now, see that clothing shop there, with the ball gowns? And the restaurant next to it? Focus on the space between them.'

Petunia concentrated, and suddenly she saw the Leaky Cauldron, as if it had been there all along. She exclaimed in surprise, and McGonagall flashed her a brief, but genuine smile. Petunia and Harry followed the professor as she briskly strode through the tavern. Petunia barely had time to observe the strange characters in the pub before they found themselves in the back alley, facing a brick wall. McGonagall tapped the bricks in a quick sequence with her wand while telling Petunia that she could have Tom, the bartender, do it for her the next time they came. As the bricks opened up, Petunia and Harry stepped through in wonder to Diagon Alley.

Petunia only half listened as McGonagall showed them around, pointing out important stores. There was so much to see and so many oddly dressed people hurrying about. McGonagall showed them to Gringotts where they could exchange muggle money for wizarding currency. Once she was satisfied that Petunia and Harry were comfortable, she took her leave and said goodbye.

The pair methodically purchased the items on Harry's list of supplies. Buying the wand was especially strange; Mr. Ollivander looked at Harry curiously when wand after wand failed to take. Finally he offered him a holly and phoenix feather wand, which emitted the most beautiful trail of golden sparks when Harry held it. The strange old man said something odd about the wand's brother having done 'great and terrible things' and that he expected the same from Harry. Petunia suppressed a shudder and ushered Harry from the store as swiftly as she could after paying.

Given all the items on display on Diagon Alley, Petunia was surprised that she only had to rein Harry in once- he begged her to buy a solid gold cauldron instead of the standard pewter, which she of course, refused.

'Please, auntie, please?' pleaded Harry. 'I swear I've never wanted anything more in my entire life! I won't even ask for Christmas presents this year!'

'No, you foolish child,' snorted Petunia. 'The list says pewter, and pewter you shall have! What'll you do with a gold cauldron anyway?'

She did buy him several extra books on fun jinxes to make up for it though. Finally, the thing left on the list were his robes. As they entered Madame Malkin's, a young blond boy came stomping out, followed by his mother.

'I wanted green robes, mother! Not black!'

'Now, now Draco, first years are only allowed black robes, dear,' his mother replied wearily. 'But of course, I'll order green for you to wear at home.'

'I want them in SILK, mother! Like father's!' he whined, as his mother walked back into the store to place the order. 'With a SNAKE on the back!'

Petunia shook her head. Some people really didn't know how to raise children!

Inside, Madame Malkin herself was scurrying about, fitting several children with robes.

'Hogwarts, dear? Lovely, just hop right up here and I'll get right to you!'

Harry jumped up onto the fitting platform, while Petunia sat on a wooden chair to wait, thankful for the opportunity to rest her aching feet.

'Hullo. Are you going to be in first year too?' said a round faced boy next to Harry, 'I'm Neville, Neville Longbottom.'

'Hi, yeah, this is my first year,' replied Harry as a tape measure flew around him. 'I'm Harry Dursley.'

'Nice to meet you! What house d'you think you'll be in? My gran keeps saying Gryffindor because that's where my parents were.'

'I don't know. I think I can fit into any of the houses, and my auntie doesn't care where I go.'

Neville looked at Petunia with mournful envy.

'That sounds nice. I don't think I'm brave enough for Gryffindor,' Neville lamented.

'Oh. I'm sure everyone's a little bit brave if they've got to be,' said Harry thoughtfully. 'But perhaps you should let the sorting hat decide. That's what I'm going to do, anyway.'

'All done, dears!' said Madame Malkin as she folded up the sets of robes for each of them.

'Well, bye Neville. I guess I'll see you on the train,' said Harry.

'Bye Harry! See you soon.'

As Petunia and Harry walked back to the Leaky Cauldron, she spotted Eeylop's Owl Emporium, and remembered how useful her own owl, Willow, was when she needed to communicate with Dumbledore and even Lily when she was still around.

'Come, Harry, we've one last thing to get!' said Petunia, grabbing her nephew's hand and pulled him into the store.

'An owl?' asked Harry, his eyes wide. He had never had a pet before.

'Yes, love. Then you can write to me whenever you like.' Petunia beamed at him. 'It's a late birthday present. Choose any owl you like.'

Harry wandered up and down the aisles, until he came to a cage that held a large snowy owl. She hooted softly at him.

'This one, please, auntie! I think she likes me!'

Petunia smiled and purchased the owl, along with a cage and a supply of owl treats. Finally, their shopping was done and Harry was set for Hogwarts.


	13. Chapter 13- The Sorting

_September 1st, 1990- Petunia_

The rest of their little holiday had been enjoyable. Petunia and Harry toured London, visiting the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace and Madame Tussaud's. The proprietors of Camden Lodge, the little b&b they had stayed at, gave them funny looks after their Diagon Alley trip, as they were armed with the strangest books, a cauldron, and an owl. The two chuckled over what everyone must think of them. When they weren't exploring London, Harry was absorbed in his school books. He even found a name in his History of Magic text for his new pet- Hedwig.

Now, it was time for Harry to board the Hogwarts Express. Unlike the trip her family had made for Lily's first journey to the school, this journey was far less depressing for Petunia. She had been envious and alone then. Now, she was simply glad that her nephew was attending the school, and claiming his magical birthright.

'Oh my sweet boy,' said Petunia, blinking away tears and smothering Harry in a tight hug. 'I'll miss you so much!'

Harry's reply was muffled, but it sounded like he was protesting against the public display of affection. She laughed, wiped away her tears and released him.

'Now, remember, study hard, and don't get into trouble!' she warned him playfully. 'Be auntie's good little boy!'

'Ugh yes, auntie,' said Harry, blushing in embarrassment.

'And here, sweetums, I've packed a little snack for you.' Petunia handed him a rather large bag containing several sandwiches, pastries and bottles of cold water.

'Auntie! There's enough for about five people in here!' laughed Harry.

'Well, then, make some friends dear,' said Petunia, pinching his cheek lightly. Giving Harry one last hug, she watched him board the train. A few minutes later, he stuck his head out of the compartment window and waved at his aunt.

Petunia waved back, bravely holding back her tears until the train was gone, and then let them fall. She caught her own train back to Cullfield and found her cottage vast and empty without Harry's presence. Fortunately, her friends from the village made a point of dropping by, and didn't let her wallow. Although still missing Harry, she looked forward to his first letter.

* * *

_September 1st, 1990- Harry_

Harry had been a bit mortified at being kissed, hugged and wept at in public by his aunt. However, no one noticed because everyone else was going through the same ordeal with their parents. He climbed into the train, and settled into an empty compartment, leaning out to wave at his aunt one last time. The train began to move and he leaned back in the plush seat, feeling a bit unsettled. He had never really been away from his aunt before… they had always done everything together. Just as the weight of loneliness had begun to settle on him, someone cracked open the compartment door.

'Hey! Harry! Is it alright if I sit in here?' It was Neville Longbottom, the boy from Madame Malkin's. He peered in shyly, waiting for Harry's assent.

'Of course, come in,' said Harry, cheered at seeing a familiar face. 'Want a sandwich? My auntie packed enough for a whole family!'

Neville happily accepted the tomato and cheese sandwich, and they sat munching and discussing what they knew of Hogwarts. Suddenly, the compartment door flew open and a blond boy stepped through, flanked by two large, expressionless children.

'Ugh, Crabbe, Goyle, we've got to find another compartment. This one reeks of Longbottom,' sneered the boy, glaring at Neville. 'Can't believe you even got into Hogwarts, I heard you were a squib.'

Neville looked down, a dull blush spreading on his face. 'Hello, Malfoy.'

Harry disliked bullies, and although they barely knew each other, he felt the need to defend Neville.

'Malfoy!' said Harry excitedly. 'Not as in Lucius Malfoy's son, Draco?'

Malfoy preened. 'You've heard of me.'

'Of course! All the books about the great war talk about how your dad escaped going to Azkaban despite being clearly involved in several crimes!' chirped Harry, pleased to see Malfoy's smirk fall.

'How dare you… you… non entity!' snarled Malfoy and stomped out of the compartment, followed closely by his goons.

Harry glanced at Neville. 'Was it something I said?'

The two began giggling uncontrollably.

Neville settled back into his seat comfortably. 'I've never seen someone stand up to Malfoy like that! How'd you know all that stuff anyway?'

'After we found out I was a wizard, auntie got some books for me about the magical world,' said Harry. 'I got a bunch on the magical war, about that Voldemort person, and all the stuff that he did.'

He had also read a number of books and articles on himself and his parents, and it had been _weird_ to say the least. It was like reading about someone else.

'If you don't mind me asking… what happened to your parents?' asked Neville in a small voice.

'Car accident,' said Harry. Remembering only hearing about Neville's grandmother, and not his parents he asked, 'What about yours?'

'They were attacked by V-Voldemort's people… but they didn't die. They just never… got better,' said Neville quietly. 'I've lived with gran ever since.'

'I'm sorry,' said Harry sincerely.

'It's alright, gran's been good to me, even if she's pressed about me getting into Gryffindor!' said Neville, forcing a smile.

'Let's hope the sorting hat makes the best decision for us!' declared Harry.

They were momentarily distracted by the trolley witch, whose cart offered sweets the likes of which Harry had never seen. He bought as many chocolate frogs, Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans and Cauldron Cakes as he could, and the two stuffed themselves. The rest of the journey was uneventful, except for the attempted escape of Trevor, Neville's pet toad. He hopped around the compartment anxiously, not liking the movement of the train. Another first year, a blonde girl with pigtails, helped to corral him, and offered them an empty picnic basket as a temporary cage.

Eventually, the train slowed to a halt, and the students disembarked. A large, burly man with a lantern gathered the first years and led them to a small dock next to a large body of dark water. Dozens of small boats bobbed gently and the students carefully boarded them. Harry stuck with Neville, nervous again. As the boats moved, seemingly of their own accord, Harry trailed his fingers in the freezing water.

'Now, don't yeh firsties go fallin' into the lake!' bellowed their guide, who had introduced himself as Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. 'We've got squids an' strange creatures yeh don' want to meet today!'

Harry and Neville stared at each other for an instant, and began searching the black water for any movement. Harry thought he spotted something breaking the surface, but it disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. He kept his hands firmly in the boat after that.

'Look up, righ' ahead, and yeh will see Hogwarts!' Hagrid called out from the front of the boats. The castle rose in front of them, lights twinkling at the windows, turrets towering everywhere. A hush fell over the first years as they gaped at the building.

Soon, they arrived at another small dock, and were greeted by Professor McGonagall. Instead of the severe suit that she had worn the day she met Harry and Aunt Petunia, she wore equally severe black robes.

'Welcome to Hogwarts, children. Follow me, and your sorting ceremony will begin.'

They stumbled after her, their footing unsure on the dark path. She led to them to a small alcove to wait, and Harry could hear the chatter of hundreds of voices in a room next to them. The first years shifted nervously. Most had no idea of how the sorting ceremony was performed and Harry could hear them sharing wild theories. A red-headed boy claimed that they would be made to fight a troll, while a bushy haired witch muttered all the spells she could remember. Harry and Neville knew that a hat would be making the decision, so they remained calm, and amused at their classmates' panic.

'Come, children. It is time to be sorted.' Everyone jumped. No one had heard Professor McGonagall entering the room.

She guided them into an enormous hall, where the rest of the school waited on four long tables. Harry felt his stomach drop; what if something went wrong in front of all these people? He spotted Professor Dumbledore sitting with the other teachers on the head table, and caught his eye. Dumbledore smiled at him, and Harry felt a bit more reassured. A battered wizard's hat sat on a stool, and everyone stared rather stupidly at it. It began to sing a song, telling them about the four houses. When it was over, everyone applauded, and McGonagall commenced the ceremony.

'Abbott, Hannah!'

The helpful blonde witch from the train placed the hat on her head and waited for a split second. 'HUFFLEPUFF!'

A table at the side of the hall cheered, and welcomed the girl into their fold.

'Boot, Terry!'

'Ravenclaw!'

The Ravenclaw table greeted him with handshakes and slapped him on the back.

'Brown, Lavender!'

'Gryffindor!'

Harry felt Neville tense next to him as the Gryffindor table whooped rowdily.

'Crabbe, Vincent!'

'Slytherin!'

The Slytherin table applauded quietly and made a place for the lumbering boy.

'Dursley, Harry!'

Harry walked to the stool, his knees wobbling, and placed the hat on his head.

'Hmm, hello, Harry Dursley. Plenty of brains here, I see! You're a hard worker too, very nice. Lots of bravery and pluck too. A great deal of ambition as well. But… what's this?' Harry heard the Sorting Hat's voice in his head.

'What's what?' whispered Harry anxiously envisioning himself being forced back on the train to be sent home _in front of all these people_.

'Why, you're no Dursley. You're a Potter.' The hat sounded surprised.

Harry thought of his aunt's kind face and the warm hugs she gave. He remembered the stories she told him about the brave man who would have been his uncle, whose name he now bore proudly. 'No, I AM a Dursley! I'll always be a Dursley!'

'Interesting! Such loyalty. I say, let it be HUFFLEPUFF!'

Harry ripped the hat off, and stumbled to the Hufflepuff table in relief. Several people introduced themselves and he forgot their names immediately. He sat next to Hannah, the girl who had helped to trap Trevor on the train, and they grinned at each other. The Hufflepuff ghost, the Fat Friar, tried to shake his hand and made it quite numb. Justin Finch-Fletchley joined them a few minutes later, while Seamus Finnigan and Hermione Granger went to Gryffindor.

'Longbottom, Neville!'

Poor Neville shuffled to the hat, his eyes firmly on the ground, and placed it on his head. He remained there for several minutes until the hat decided.

'HUFFLEPUFF!'

Harry beamed at him as he sat at the table with them, looking a bit overwhelmed.

'Oh no,' moaned Neville, dropping his face into his hands. 'What's gran going to say?'

'Don't worry Neville,' said Hannah, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. 'I'm sure she'll be fine with it.'

As the sorting ended, Dumbledore stood. 'Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you.'

Harry wasn't surprised. Dumbledore regularly inserted these words into conversation whenever he came over to Aunt Petunia's for tea or supper. Neither he nor Aunt Petunia had worked out what they meant. As Dumbledore finished his strange speech, an assortment of dishes appeared on the table before them. Baked potatoes, roast beef, baked chicken, steamed vegetables and buttery bread rolls were generously piled on platters down the table. Soup tureens containing hot vegetable soup, and jugs of chilled pumpkin juice and water appeared here and there. As they ate, the older Hufflepuffs pointed out the different teachers to them.

'…and that there is Professor Flitwick, he teaches Charms. He's great, you'll love him,' said Cedric Diggory, a second year student sitting next to Harry.

A girl named Tamsin Applebee indicated to the man dressed in black. 'Next to him is Professor Snape. He teaches Potions… he's a bit mean to everyone, especially the Gryffindors, but he's not so bad to the Hufflepuffs.'

Cedric chewed thoughtfully on a bread roll. 'He likes students who are good at Potions though. He's got no time for you if you're not.'

Harry stared at the man dressed in black and agreed silently that he did look a bit exacting.

'And that over there, with the weird eye, is Professor Moody,' said Tamsin, pointing out a strange looking man who was spearing his beef rather viciously. He wore an eyepatch that contained an electric blue eye that swivelled everywhere. 'He's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.'

As if he had heard them, the strange eye turned and focused on them, and they all floundered as they looked off in various directions. Fortunately, the main course faded from the table and dessert appeared, distracting everyone. Cupcakes, ice cream, and an assortment of pies and pastries materialised in front of Harry. He gorged himself on apple pie and vanilla ice cream and was completely stuffed by the time the feast was over. He groaned as Neville pulled him up to follow the prefects leading the first years to the Hufflepuff common room.

They trotted after them through a corridor next to the Great Hall, and down some stone stairs. Flaming wall sconces lit their path and Harry hoped that they were not going to the dungeons. "Hogwarts: A History" had been vague about the locations of the various common rooms as the houses were secretive about them. The children passed a few paintings on the way- one was a mundane bowl of fruit, while others featured chatty occupants who called out words of welcome to the new students. Finally, the prefects stopped at an unlit recess at the side of the corridor where some barrels were stacked in a neat pile.

'Now, look closely kids. This is how you access the common room,' called out one of the prefects. She began to tap on the middle barrel in the second row. 'All you need to do is tap here in the tune of "Helga Hufflepuff". If you don't do it right, you'll get drenched in vinegar!'

Harry and Neville exchanged nervous glances. That would be incredibly embarrassing. The prefects led them into the common room, and Harry was surprised to see a cosy, well lit space. Unlike the chilly stone corridor outside, the common room was warm, and glowed in the light of several fires. Squishy armchairs faced the fireplaces and plants hung everywhere, softening the stark yellow and black decor with their cool green. Larger sofa sets surrounded small tables elsewhere in the room, perfect for reading and chatting, while long desks with chairs were set up on the far end of the room, forming places for school work. Windows lined the walls, and Harry wondered what they could possibly show, as they were underground. Peering through one, he could see a moonlit meadow and someone said that it was magical view, much like the ceiling of the Great Hall.

Professor Sprout, a short, plump woman with flyaway hair and a kind face, introduced herself as the head of house. She gave them the basic rules and assured them that she, and the prefects, were there if they had any problems. Though her speech was short, Harry was comforted; she had a maternal air about her and seemed a jolly sort.

A passageway off the common room took the new Hufflepuff boys to their dormitory where their trunks waited for them. Atop Harry's trunk was Hedwig in her cage. She hooted softly at him as he released her, and gave her some owl treats. While Harry was at Hogwarts, she would sleep in the Owlery with the other owls. He hoped she would like it. His own sleeping quarters were comfortable. Each boy got a four poster bed covered in black and yellow bedding, along with a compact cupboard for clothing and a small desk and chair for school work. Curtains embroidered with the house symbol, a badger, could be pulled around each section for privacy. Just beyond the sleeping quarters was a private bathroom, just for the first year boys. Harry washed up quickly, and got into bed, exhausted. In minutes, he was asleep.

* * *

_September 1990- Petunia_

_September 2nd, 1990_

_Dear Aunt Petunia,_

_How are you? How's Cullfield? Guess, what… I GOT INTO HUFFLEPUFF! It's really lovely auntie, everyone is really nice and helpful. And the beds are comfortable, and I've got my own little desk for homework. My head of house is Professor Sprout, she teaches Herbology, so she knows lots about plants. Today we had a class called Transfiguration which was taught by Professor McGonagall. Did you know she could turn into a cat? Did you know ANYONE could turn into a cat? I've already made a few friends: Neville who we met on Diagon Alley, my roommate Justin Finch-Fletchley and a girl named Hannah Abbott. The food is great, but not as great as yours auntie! Anyway, I've got Potions now, and I can't be late, they say the professor hates tardiness! Please write back soon, and tell me how everything is at home!_

_Love,_

_Harry._

Petunia was pleased that he seemed to be settling in well. She wondered what Lily and James would think if they knew that Harry had been sorted into Hufflepuff. They hadn't been kind about the house, with Lily calling them 'soft' and James derisively saying that it was a house of 'odds and ends'. Petunia, however, valued hard work and loyalty, and was proud that Harry had shown these qualities so much that he had been chosen for Hufflepuff. She took his hint about the Hogwarts fare not being up to her standards (although she was certain that he was exaggerating), and packed a large care package for him. She included his favourite white chocolate macadamia nut cookies, a whole strawberry cake, and some mini lamb pies, and sent it off with Willow. Not for the first time, she felt sorry for Harry's absent parents. But then again, their loss had been her gain.

* * *

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews, follows and favourites! Look out for the next update, next week! Let me know if you enjoyed this chapter xx


	14. Chapter 14- The Road to Redemption

_The First Term- Harry_

Harry's first day was a whirlwind of activity. While the other boys moaned about the early hour, he hurtled out of bed, and rushed to wash and get dressed. He inspected his class schedule at breakfast, while Neville moaned over a letter from his grandmother. She wasn't entirely pleased about his sorting, but there wasn't anything she could do about it.

They had transfiguration first thing that morning, followed by a short break and later, Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Lunch would be right after that, and soon after they would head to Potions. History of Magic was the final class for the day. Between bites of sausage, fried eggs, baked beans and buttered toast, Harry began to scribble a letter to Aunt Petunia, telling her about Hufflepuff.

The dirty dishes and empty platters disappeared from the table, signalling the end of breakfast, so he tucked his unfinished letter into a notebook and rushed off to his first class. He and Neville got lost due to the moving staircases more than once that day, and they were only just on time for their classes. Transfiguration was interesting, but difficult. It was so hard to turn a match into a pin that Harry couldn't even begin to think about turning himself into an animal, the way McGonagall had transformed into a cat. Charms proved to be a fun class, and Flitwick a kind and effective teacher. Harry immediately knew that this would be one of his favourite classes. Professor Moody, who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, terrified and thrilled the first years by recounting duels with dark wizards. He did seem very paranoid though, and lectured them about being constantly vigilant.

By the time their lunch hour had arrived, Harry was exhausted. However, remembering the foreboding words of the older Hufflepuffs, he ate as quickly as he could, completed his letter to Aunt Petunia and made Neville and Hannah leave their table early to get to Potions on time. They were the first ones in the freezing dungeon classroom, and the Potions teacher, Professor Snape looked slightly surprised, and Harry fancied, a little impressed at their enthusiasm.

Harry was thoroughly fascinated with Professor Snape. His cloak billowed out dramatically behind him as he walked around the room, and Harry made up his mind to search for a charm that would do the same for his cloak. The rest of the class settled in; they would be partnered with Ravenclaw.

Snape glared at them, as though they had already ruined several potions. 'There will be no foolish wand waving, or stupid incantations in this class. This magic is far more subtle than that. As such, I do not expect many of you will succeed.'

He spoke slowly and softly. The room was silent. The students barely dared to breathe.

'For those of you with potential, I can teach you to bottle fame, brew glory…and even put a stopper in DEATH.'

Harry was enthralled. The man was utterly theatrical. Harry now wanted nothing more than to learn to put a stopper in death.

'And now, a quiz. I shall see which of you dunderheads read ahead. I expect none of you bothered.' Snape ran a long, thin finger down the list of names on his register. 'Ah. Mr. Dursley. Tell me, where would I find a bezoar?'

Harry's thoughts raced; he had read this during the summer. 'The stomach of a goat, sir?'

Snape raised an eyebrow. 'Correct. Ms. Patil, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?'

Padma Patil, a Ravenclaw girl, started, and stared around panicked. 'Um, there is no difference? Sir? They're the same plant?'

Snape looked a bit put out that both students had managed to answer correctly. He waved his wand ('Aha! There IS wand waving in this class!' Harry thought) and the instructions for a Cure for Boils appeared on the board. He walked up and down the aisle, breathing down the students' necks, attempting to make them nervous. Having grown up with a teacher, Harry was well aware of these tactics and was not phased at all. Harry and Neville worked together, and managed to successfully brew the potion, much to Snape's surprise. Evidently, he had judged them as being amongst the foolish wand wavers. He grumpily accepted their samples and tested them.

'Your cure for boils is acceptable,' said Snape grudgingly. 'I suppose you may have five points for Hufflepuff.'

Harry and Neville grinned at each other and high fived. Snape rolled his eyes. When everyone was done, he assigned the class an essay on appropriate substitutes for the ingredients of the potion they had just made.

History of Magic followed Potions, and although Harry loved the subject, Professor Binns was thoroughly dull. It should have been exciting, being taught by a ghost, but Binns personified the phrase 'bored to death' perfectly. Harry was glad that he had Bathilda Bagshot's books. They were well written and reliable; he wouldn't need to pay too much attention to Binns.

Buoyed by his small victory in Potions class, he rushed off to the library to complete his homework before supper. He had almost completed everything when he ran into a small conundrum, and made a note to ask Snape about it after the next class. The recipe called for mucus from a slug, and his research told him that one could replace the slug mucus with that of a snail. But, Harry wondered, what if the snail was poisonous, as some were wont to be? The next day, he cautiously put his question to the professor, earning him a twitch of the mouth, which Harry took to be a smile.

'Yes, one must indeed be careful when choosing which snail they're using. The wrong one can exacerbate the boils. Good observation Mr. Dursley.'

Harry scrawled Snape's explanation in his notebook and made to leave the dungeon.

'Mr. Dursley.'

Harry turned around, wondering if he was in trouble. 'Yes, sir?'

Snape scrutinised him. 'It appears that you may be one of the few students with some capacity for this subject. I would like to offer you some extra practice, and perhaps have you try brewing some more complex potions.'

Pleased, Harry thanked him and left the dungeon. Aunt Petunia would be happy to hear that he was doing so well. Later that week, Harry made his way to the chilly Potions classroom for his extra class. Several other students from the other houses would be joining them. He knew at least one; Hermione Granger from Gryffindor had been boasting about it all over school. Padma Patil would also be there, and Harry hoped he could partner with her, as he already knew her from several of his classes. As he neared the classroom, he overheard some voices.

'Uncle Sev, Father will kill me if I'm not top of my year, please help!' a boy sniffled.

'Draco, your father won't kill you,' said Snape, his tone weary. 'He just wants you to do your best.'

Draco sounded as though he were on the verge of tears. 'You know that isn't true, he said if any muggleborn students beat me, I'm not worthy of the house of Malfoy!'

'Oh Draco. Your father just wants you to fulfil your potential. Nevertheless, these classes will advance your skills.'

Uncomfortable with what he had just heard, Harry paused before knocking. He had grown up in a loving home- despite technically being an orphan, he had had a solid and wonderful home life. That a parent figure would be anything but kind and encouraging towards him was a foreign concept to Harry. Aunt Petunia would never have said such a thing to him, even if he hadn't been doing well at school, and Dumbledore had always been gently encouraging. He had disliked Draco from their first meeting on the train, and thought him spoilt and snobbish, but now, he simply felt sorry for the boy. He knocked on the door, and was told to come in.

'Good evening, Mr. Dursley. This is Mr. Malfoy, of Slytherin house. You two will be partners today.' Snape flipped open the potions text. 'You'll find your assigned potion on page 45. You may begin.'

Padma and Hermione turned up a few minutes later and were paired up. Harry did not dare protest working with Draco. Besides, Draco didn't seem to be in the mood to start trouble; his eyes were red, and he was subdued. They worked together quietly and efficiently and produced the assigned potion.

'You did pretty well in there, for a mu- for someone who hasn't been around magic before,' said Draco as they walked out together.

'Thanks,' said Harry, surprised. 'You did really well, too.'

'Not well enough,' muttered Draco, miserably. 'See you, Dursley.'

He hurried off before Harry could ask him what he meant.

* * *

Their first year rushed by, a blur of classes and exploring the castle and grounds. Letters flew between Hogwarts and Cullfield often, and Harry was relieved to know that his aunt was doing well without him. He had been worried that she would be lonely. She had recently started a book club with some of her friends in the village and had resumed tutoring children who were sitting their O Level examinations. His extra classes with Snape continued, and he was partnered with Draco each time. When Draco wasn't being snippy and arrogant- which he frequently forgot to be during these classes- Harry quite liked him, and the two began a tentative friendship. All seemed to be going well, until Draco bumped into Ron Weasley one evening after class.

'Red hair, freckles, hand me down robes… you must be a Weasley,' sneered Draco.

Harry suppressed a groan. WHY on earth did Draco feel the need to provoke this boy?

'Malfoy.' Ron glared at him. 'What're you doing skulking about at this hour? Doing dark magic like your dad?'

Draco lunged at Ron. 'Shut up! Shut up you blood traitor!'

Harry hastily grabbed onto Draco's robes and dragged him away.

'Let me at him! How dare he!' shrieked Draco, as Harry propelled him away from Ron.

Harry rolled his eyes. 'You insulted him first, idiot.'

'He's just a Weasley!' protested Draco. 'They're the worst, his dad is always trying to have my father arrested for having dark objects.'

'And does he?' asked Harry, innocently.

Draco gave him a dirty look. 'That's beside the point.'

'Well, I don't see why you need to provoke Ron like that. It's between your fathers, isn't it, not you.' Harry continued dragging Draco away. 'Doesn't make any sense for you to get into trouble over that. 'sides, what would your dad think if you got detention?'

Draco stopped struggling.

'You're right,' he said quietly. 'Father would murder me.'

They parted ways as Draco neared the entrance of the Slytherin common room, and left Harry wondering about Lucius Malfoy. He didn't see Snape, lurking in the shadows, listening to the exchange.

* * *

_The First Year- Severus Snape_

'So, Severus, how are your little extra sessions going?' said Dumbledore, popping a lemon drop in his mouth.

'Quite well professor. The Granger girl is proving to be the brightest witch in her year and Ms. Patil is keeping up with her,' said Severus, bored with the conversation already.

'And the other two, Mr. Dursley and Mr. Malfoy? How are they doing? And I did wonder, why you paired Mr. Malfoy with a muggleborn student, given his family's views.'

Severus gritted his teeth. Why Dumbledore was interested in four silly first years was beyond him. 'They're doing well. Very well. I paired them simply because Draco and Hermione Granger are far too headstrong for each other, and Ms. Patil and Mr. Dursley are too quiet to work together.'

Dumbledore gazed at him expectantly, clearly wanting details. Severus suppressed a groan.

'Alright, I admit it,' snapped Severus.

Dumbledore opened a box of chocolates, looking mildly interested in his outburst.

'Have a cherry chocolate, Severus, they're lovely. Now, what do you admit?'

'I thought Dursley might temper Draco's worst impulses, and undo some of the damage his father has done to him,' said Severus quietly, thinking of his pale, distressed godson. 'Harry might be muggleborn, but he is smart, and I thought by having them work together, Draco would come to his own conclusions about muggleborns.'

'And is it working?' said Dumbledore, waving the box of chocolates in Severus' face.

He took one just to make Dumbledore shut up about the damned chocolates. 'I believe so, yes. Draco and Harry are friends now, and I heard Harry discouraging him from fighting the Weasley boy the other day.'

'Excellent!' said Dumbledore, clapping his hands.

'Is that all, professor?' said Severus, desperately hoping that the conversation was at an end. Dumbledore smiled and dismissed him.

He mused on the situation as he stalked down the freezing hallway to the dungeons. Severus was concerned about the path Lucius expected Draco to take. It was one of hatred, and he didn't want that for the boy; he didn't want the child to repeat his mistakes. At present, Draco was stuck in an echo chamber of bigotry; his parents preached fanatically about blood purity and his school mates reinforced it. Draco badly needed a new perspective.

Severus knew exactly where he had gone wrong as a teenager. Choosing his Slytherin friends over Lily, and calling her that word had been the first of a long line of missteps. Taking the dark mark and joining Voldemort had been another stupid decision. Fortunately, he had managed to right those wrongs by taking the biggest risk of his life and switching sides during the war. It had worked out, thanks to the little Potter boy. Severus sighed as he did whenever he remembered the child's untimely death. His heart had gone out to Lily, and he had written her a note of condolence, which he wasn't sure if she ever got. The terrible scandal with James happened shortly after, and it was rumoured that they had left the country. His mouth thinned when he thought of James Potter and what he did to Lily. If he was being honest with himself, he briefly harboured a fantasy of her leaving Potter and reuniting with him. But then she and James left the country. Time and age provided him with the tools to get over his childhood love, and now he could safely say that he no longer loved Lily, although he still cared for her and always would. He had done his part to ensure that she survived the war, and life went on after that.

Severus didn't want Draco to end up on such a convoluted path. The road to redemption was rocky, and better avoided altogether. He hoped that Harry Dursley's friendship with Draco would keep him off that road. Perhaps the Dursley child could be to Draco what Lily was to him. Harry was an escape route for his godson, if only Draco would take it.

* * *

AN: Thanks so much to all the feedback and follows and likes! Let me know how you felt about this update and look out for the next chapter next week!


	15. Chapter 15- A Perfect Storm

_Summer 1992- Malfoy Manor_

Lucius Malfoy sat at his massive desk, holding a small, black book in his smooth, pale hands. The book appeared commonplace; it was just an old diary, all the pages blank, except for the first, on which was scribbled the name, "T. M. Riddle". Lucius had no idea who T. M. Riddle was, but he knew the diary was of great importance to the Dark Lord. After all, he had entrusted it to Lucius for safekeeping, shortly before his demise. Now, his lord was gone, and he was still dealing with the consequences of publicly supporting him a decade ago. Everyone believed the Malfoys to be evil, and no amount of money flung at charitable causes could convince anyone otherwise. Indeed, that blasted Arthur Weasley persisted in trying to get him arrested for possessing dark objects. Lucius considered possible routes: he could get rid of his stash of dark materials, or he could get rid of Weasley somehow. He twirled the book in his hands. He didn't know what it could do, but it would certainly be ironic for that blood traitor to be found with it.

He called for his house elf. 'Dobby!'

'Yes, master, how can Dobby help?' squeaked the elf, twisting his ears in an irritating nervous tick.

'Tell me where the Weasley family is right now. Ensure that you're not seen.'

'Yes, master!'

Dobby disappeared and reappeared in seconds.

'Weasels are at Diagon Alley sir, master!'

'Excellent. Dismissed.' Lucius smiled to himself. He tucked the book into his pocket. He knew exactly how he would get it to Weasley.

A few hours later, Lucius, his wife Narcissa, and his son, Draco, walked briskly down Diagon Alley, gathering Draco's school supplies for his second year at Hogwarts. Lucius contemplated extra tutoring and study guides for the boy; he had been disappointed with his performance that year. Malfoys did not come second place to dirty little _female_ muggleborns. Lucius' lips thinned as he thought about how Draco had been beaten by Hermione Granger in the end of year exams. He was disgusted and he had certainly let his son know. Narcissa coddled the boy, telling him to do his 'best', but that wasn't good enough for Lucius, for the house of Malfoy. They approached Flourish and Blotts, to get Draco's textbooks, all new of course. Malfoys never purchased _used. _A gaggle of redheads stood around a shelf, discussing the prices of books. Weasleys, thought Lucius scornfully. Of course they could barely afford to buy the required books.

'Arthur, perhaps Ginny could use Percy's old potions text? He's using an advanced one now,' said a harried looking woman, her red hair frizzy in the warmth of summer. Their small daughter stood next to her, holding an old, battered cauldron already filled with a few shabby, dog eared texts.

'Yes, but what do we do about Ron's herbology books? And the defense against the dark arts text?' whispered Arthur Weasley. Lucius was pleased see the lines of stress on his face.

'Well, well Weasley, money troubles?' he said smoothly and quietly to Arthur.

'Sod off, Malfoy.' Arthur Weasley turned away. Lucius saw red. One NEVER turned away from a Malfoy. He jerked him back to face him, and punched him square in the jaw. Arthur shoved him and he stumbled a few feet, almost knocking into the small redheaded girl. She staggered away from him, spilling her cauldron of old books. Lucius surreptitiously slipped the old diary onto the pile of scattered texts.

A store clerk hurried out. 'Gentlemen, please! Not in the store!'

Lucius smirked as the small girl began depositing her books- the diary among them- back into her old cauldron. 'It's quite alright. I'm done here. Come, Narcissa, Draco.'

He strode out of the store, satisfied. Narcissa hurried after him silently, knowing better than to question his bizarre behaviour. Draco dawdled behind them, surveying the chaos.

_'_Draco. Come.'

His son's head snapped up, a guilty expression on his face. Lucius expected his family to be obedient. He frowned. He would have to see to it that Draco was disciplined better. For now, Lucius was too pleased with the day's work to do anything, and the three made their way back to Malfoy Manor for the rest of the summer holiday.

* * *

_Summer 1992- Somewhere in the forests of Albania_

He spent an eternity in a cursed existence, mimicking life by possessing snakes and eating rats. It was the closest thing he had to breathing, to living. Sometimes, he was only a wraith, nothing more than a puff of smoke, and not even as deadly. After all that time as a lord, leading hundreds into revolt, he was nothing. He was once worshipped as a god, and the loneliness now was crushing.

But today, he felt something… a stirring in his broken soul. One of his horcruxes had been activated. Was one of his loyal subjects finally attempting to bring him back? As the horcrux gained power, however little, so did he. His strength increased, and he left the bowels of the dark woods. He found a small village, and searched for a wizard or a witch whose body he could share. He whispered into the ears of the villagers, trying to find a suitable host for his shattered spirit. The muggles who gave him their bodies died or went mad soon after. He feared his road back to Britain, back to life, would be a long one. But luck was on his side. A wizard named Quirinus Quirrell was passing through Albania on holiday before he took up a post at Hogwarts, and stopped for the night in the small village.

He whispered in his dreams, filled his mind with visions of glory and prestige. He saw Quirrell's memories of being bullied at Hogwarts; he promised revenge. Quirrell was weak and hungry for power. A beautiful combination, he thought.

In the end, two became one.

What was spirit became corporeal.

Lord Voldemort was on his way home.

* * *

_October 31st 1992- Harry_

_Dear Aunt Petunia,_

_Sorry I haven't written in a while, school's been really busy. We got a new Defense teacher! Neville said that Professor Moody told his gran that he'd rather fight death eaters for the rest of his life than teach pre teens ever again! I don't think we were that bad though. The new Defense teacher is REALLY weird, auntie. His name is Professor Quirrell, and he cried the first day when he told us about vampires. And when Anthony Goldstein asked him why he wears a turban, he got really angry and gave the entire class detention! We just had to help Hagrid clean his chicken coop, and then he gave us tea and cakes and I got to pet Fang, his dog. Can WE get a dog auntie?_

_Also, my extra Potions classes have been going great! Draco has been a lot better this term, and only challenged Ron to one duel so far. I'd say that's an improvement over last term! Anyway, it's the Halloween feast today! I hope you have a lovely Halloween! Hope to hear from you soon!_

_Love,_

_Harry._

Harry carefully fastened the letter to Hedwig's leg and stroked her gently on the head. 'Take this to Aunt Petunia, please.'

Hedwig nipped his hand affectionately, and flew off into the orange sunset. Harry watched until she was nothing more than a dot in the sky. He lingered in the owlery a bit longer, enjoying the quiet; in a school of a thousand students, one learnt to enjoy the peaceful moments. The soft coos of the owls, and the occasional fluttering of wings made for a soothing backdrop, and it was with reluctance that Harry pulled himself away. A muffled sob stopped him.

'Hello? Is anyone there?' he called out, peering around. He was a bit unnerved as he thought he had been alone. A sad sniffle, accompanied by a woeful redhead, emerged from the shadows, a tear stained envelope clasped in her hands. Harry recognised the girl. It was Ron Weasley's little sister, Ginny.

'Sorry… I'll just be going,' mumbled Ginny.

'Hey, wait! What's wrong?'

'Nothing… I just wanted to write a letter to my mum in peace and Fred and George wouldn't stop snatching it from me and reading it and making fun of me missing home,' said Ginny, now looking more angry than sad.

'Oh… are you homesick?' Harry understood the feeling all too well. He always longed for his little cottage and tiny bedroom the first few weeks of every term. 'Don't worry, it passes.'

A watery smile spread across her face. 'Thanks. You're Harry right? I'm Ginny Weasley'

'It's nice to meet you,' said Harry, relieved she wasn't crying anymore.

Ginny tied the envelope to a the leg of a brown school owl. 'To The Burrow, please.'

As the owl flew off, Harry and Ginny sat for a while in the draughty tower, chatting about their homes, families and Hogwarts. They discussed the pros and cons of being an only child like Harry, or belonging to a large family like Ginny. Harry confessed that he'd always wanted a sibling, but his aunt had never remarried. Ginny told him that she would happily lend him a few of her brothers. The time passed quickly, and a glance at his watch told Harry that they would be late for the Halloween feast if they dallied any longer.

As they made their way down the steep stone steps of the Owlery, chatting about quidditch, Harry heard the softest of whispers. '_Rip, tear, kill_.'

'Did you hear that?' Harry whirled around, startled.

'Hear what?' said Ginny, looking at Harry curiously.

'I thought I heard someone say something…' Harry looked around. They were alone in the quiet passage way. 'Never mind, must've been an owl hooting weirdly probably!'

He chuckled uncertainly as they arrived at the Great Hall, the hum of the students and glow of candles a welcome contrast from the quiet, isolated tower they had left. They went to their separate tables, each pleased at having made a new friend. Harry decided to put the odd voice out of his mind, and enjoy the feast.

The Great Hall dripped in Halloween decorations. Fake cobwebs (or at least, Harry hoped they were fake) hung on pillars, and live bats swooped around. Floating jack o' lanterns drifted here and there, casting an eerie light on the students while chilling organ music boomed from somewhere. Suits of armour had been polished and spelled to walk around offering students delicious green potions that changed the colour of their hair. Neville accepted one and ended up with bright blue hair, much to his house's delight. In addition to the regular supper, skull shaped bowls contained chocolates, Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans, cockroach clusters, sugar quills and blood flavoured lollipops. Pumpkin pie and candied apples were also included as a special dessert. The students chattered and laughed as they stuffed themselves, and it was sleepy crowd that made its way to the various common rooms later that evening.

A horrible shriek shook everyone out of their stupor.

'Help! Get help! Something has happened to Justin!'

'What? What's going on?'

'Is he alright? What's happened?'

The crown panicked, and Harry found himself being pushed around as students attempted to either flee or get closer. He was shoved right into Draco, who looked just as confused as Harry felt. As they moved closer to the top of the crowd, he glimpsed a suit of armour in pieces, its tray of drinks spilt across the floor. Next to it was Justin Finch-Fletchley's unmoving body. He looked strange; he was stiff, with his arms outstretched, an expression of fear plastering his face. Glancing up, Harry noticed some words painted onto the stone walls.

'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened, enemies of the heir, BEWARE!' crowed Draco, his eyes glittering maliciously. 'That means you, MUDBLOODS!'

He simmered down as Harry shot him a disgusted look. Harry wasn't entirely sure what the Chamber of Secrets was, or who inherited it, or who their enemies were, but he was always ready to take Draco down a peg or two. Before he could make a cutting remark to him, Dumbledore and McGonagall had fought their way to the front, and were instructing prefects to guide students back to their houses. Hufflepuff house walked back, subdued and worried about Justin.

Breakfast the next day saw reassurances from Dumbledore that Justin had simply met with an unfortunate accidental spell, and that he would be as right as rain in a few months, and that the graffiti about the Chamber of Secrets had been someone's idea of a silly joke. The students accepted his explanation, and poor Justin was the butt of several unkind jokes about silly, inexperienced muggleborns. For weeks, the school chattered and debated the spells that 'poor, foolish Justin' could have messed with to end up petrified, and Hufflepuff seethed with quiet rage. A distraction came in the form of the killing of all of Hagrid's roosters one day, and the gossips of Hogwarts diverted their attention there, largely forgetting Justin's misadventure. Long after everyone else ceased to talk about Justin, Harry, Neville and Hannah continued to visit Madam Pomfrey for updates. November swept by in a flurry of ever increasing snow, and the school moved on.

* * *

_December 2nd 1992- Hermione_

Term would be over tomorrow, and Hermione felt as though she had only scraped the surface of the knowledge she hoped she'd have by now. Madam Pince was extraordinarily stubborn about students borrowing books to take home. Indeed, for many students it was hardly an issue; lots of the purebloods and half bloods had access to libraries that their parents and families had built for years. Being a muggleborn, however, Hermione didn't have many wizarding texts, and she thirsted for more information. She wanted to know so much. So the night before she was due to board the Hogwarts express and head home, she decided to sneak into the library for one last bit of studying. She knew the risks- Filch could catch her, and McGonagall could as well. Madam Pince would probably ban her from the library if she was found. But it was worth it.

She sat at the impeccably buffed table, surrounded by several texts, her nose and mind deep in a volume titled "Arithmancy of the Earth" by Tulius Avius. A small glass jar glowed with a magical blue fire that she had learnt to conjure herself and provided just enough light for reading, leaving the rest of the room shrouded in darkness. Hermione didn't mind; she was in her element in the empty, silent library. As she carefully turned the page, minding the brittle paper, she heard the slightest of sounds from a corner of the room. Her head shot up, and she listened closely.

Nothing.

It was just her imagination, she assured herself as she settled back into her chair.

Her heart slowed, and she relaxed. There were only books in this unlit, empty room. Nothing to be scared of.

Behind her, something reflected in the polished wooden table caught her eye, and she knew no more.

* * *

_December 3rd- Madam Pince_

On December 3rd, the normally silent librarian, Madam Pince, woke the castle with her screams. Hermione Granger had been found sitting at one of the library's tables, completely petrified. Her nose was still in a book, her head tilted downwards. Madam Pince, who had never allowed so much as a smudge to besmirch the burnished tables, or a single book to be misplaced, had had the shock of her life, and had to be placed in the Hospital Wing under Madam Pomfrey's care until she calmed down. It was really for the best that it was the last day of term, and the students were packed and ready faster than they had ever been in years. Hogwarts was no longer safe.

* * *

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews, likes and follows! Please let me know what you thought of this update! xx


	16. Chapter 16- The Eye of the Storm

_January 1993- Petunia_

Petunia stood at Platform 9 3/4, loath to let go of her nephew. All parents and guardians had received a missive from Hogwarts detailing the 'tragic incidents' that had occurred at Halloween and just before the end of term. Despite the assurances that whoever was attacking students would be caught soon, many parents hesitated to send their children back to school. Harry had received an apologetic note from Neville, explaining that he would not be returning to school that term as his grandmother had hired a tutor. Petunia strongly considered doing the same for Harry, and Dumbledore had recommended several good magical teachers, but Harry begged her to allow him to return, promising he would be careful.

The crowd on the platform was abnormally subdued, and Petunia wondered if she was making a mistake. Parents clung to their children, whispering instructions on how to be safe, issuing hushed warnings about the dangers of the world. Petunia thought that it was a truly dreadful day when a school was considered a dangerous place. She squeezed her nephew one last time, and watched as he boarded the train. She prayed for his protection. She prayed that magic would not take this precious child from her.

* * *

_The Second Term 1993- Harry_

Hogwarts was strangely quiet upon his return. There were no squeals from girls greeting each other after a holiday apart. There were no playful hexes between friends. Chatter in the Great Hall was suppressed and whispers hung in the air like wind in leaves. Everyone was nervous and it showed. There were gaps at the tables where students, like Neville, had been kept at home. A heaviness hung over Harry and he wondered if he ought to have taken up Aunt Petunia's offer to have him tutored instead. Of all his friends, only Hannah and Draco seemed to have returned, and he was quite lonely for the first time at Hogwarts. Even his extra potions lessons lacked their old familiarity, as poor Hermione Granger was now housed in the hospital wing, stiff as a board, and Padma Patil (and her twin sister from Gryffindor) had been kept at home. Nevertheless, Snape wanted Harry and Draco to continue the class, and they huddled over the warmth of the cauldron, brewing a memory potion.

'Alright, good job, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Dursley.' Snape shook the vial that held their potion. 'You're dismissed. Remember to walk together until you're out of the dungeon.'

Hogwarts had implemented a buddy system, and students were required to walk around in pairs until they got to common rooms, classrooms or the Great Hall.

'Ah, the buddy system,' sighed Harry, and Draco glanced at him questioningly. 'So efficient. If the attacker finds us, he gets two for the price of one!'

Draco snorted. 'Idiot.'

Harry grinned. Like most of the school, Draco had been quiet and downcast. He appeared paler than usual and Harry wanted to lighten the mood. 'How was your Christmas? Got anything cool?'

The smile Draco wore disappeared. 'I stayed at Hogwarts… it was fine, I suppose. Hardly anyone was here, really.'

Harry was surprised. 'Why'd you stay? I thought your family did a big thing for Christmas every year!'

'Father and Mother had some terribly important meetings, and they didn't have time for a celebration this year,' said Draco flatly. 'It's fine, a Malfoy always does his duty, and my duty was to stay here for Christmas.'

Harry shifted uncomfortably; caught up in celebrating Christmas with Aunt Petunia, he hadn't known that the boy had been alone for the holiday. He never even wrote to Draco, and now he was filled with remorse.

'I didn't know… I'm sorry Draco.'

'I said, it's fine,' snapped Draco. 'Anyway, I've got to go. Later, Dursley.'

'Draco, wait!'

Draco stalked past Harry, and passed the alcove that hid the Slytherin common room. Harry watched as he stomped up a staircase and out of view. He debated going after him, but decided against it. Draco clearly wanted to be alone. Harry shook his head; he never knew quite what to say to him. The boy was defensive over his parents and hated admitting that they were less than ideal. He rubbed most people the wrong way with his boasting about his wealth and power, but Harry had begun to understand that it made Draco feel better about his critical father.

Later that evening, Harry sat in the half empty Hufflepuff common room with Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan next to a roaring fire. The three shared a plate of sugar cookies that Ernie had sourced from the kitchens, along with a pot of hot, sweet tea. The three discussed the theories and rumours that had been flying around the school about the attacker's identity.

'_I _heard that it was a former student who didn't get the job they wanted as the DADA teacher!' whispered Hannah, casting furtive looks around the common room as though she expected the spurned teacher to be hiding behind a plant.

Ernie snorted. 'Don't be silly Hannah. It's obviously a plot by the Ministry to get rid of Dumbledore. They think he's too soft on muggleborns.'

Someone chuckled from a dark corner of the room. It was Cedric Diggory, an older Hufflepuff, and one much admired by the younger students. 'I'll trade you a biscuit for a story about what's really going on.'

Harry held out the plate of cookies. 'Go on, have at it, and tell us!'

Cedric grinned, and bit into a cookie. 'Well, you know the story of the Founders. Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. The first three, as we know, wanted to include muggleborns, but Salazar Slytherin wanted to keep magic for the pure bloods. They fought about it whilst building the school.'

Cedric paused, and leisurely poured himself a cup of tea. Harry, Hannah and Ernie stared at him impatiently.

He continued, 'Old Salazar was so angry, that he built a secret room, the Chamber of Secrets, where he kept some sort of monster. Some say it was a dragon, others think it was a sea serpent. Whatever it was, he said that some day, his final living descendent, his heir, would open the chamber, and let the creature out. And then it would PURGE THE SCHOOL OF ALL IMPURITIES!'

Cedric dramatically shouted the last bit, startling the three second years, who jumped up, upsetting the tea and biscuits.

He laughed and flopped back into his seat. 'And that's what everyone thinks is happening… the two students who were petrified were muggleborn… perhaps old Salazar's prediction has come true. Or there's a psychopath running around school randomly attacking students. Who knows, really.'

He grinned, and sauntered off, leaving three rather shaken Hufflepuffs next to the dying fire. The room, which a few minutes before was cosy and secure, now seemed filled with ominous shadows, and the three fled to the safety of their beds.

Morning brought dire news- a Ravenclaw girl, Cho Chang, had been found petrified outside, near the frozen lake. She appeared to be in the process of putting on skates when she was attacked, her startled face reflected in the ice. Her friends said that they were about to meet her for an early morning skating lesson. Even as Cho was deposited in the Hospital Wing, teachers carried on with their classes, reiterating to the students the importance of sticking together. Everywhere Harry went, students were huddled in groups, shooting fearful looks at each other.

As the weeks went by, more of Harry's classmates were summoned home, and the school echoed with emptiness. Even Aunt Petunia had written and told him that she would prefer if he stayed home after the Easter holiday, 'until all this is sorted, dear.' As Easter approached, Harry obediently packed his things, and prepared to stay at home until third year began. Aunt Petunia didn't intend to let him slack off; Dumbledore had recommended several texts and a tutor so that Harry could keep up. Even so, Harry was thoroughly crestfallen at having to leave school so early, and didn't look forward to Draco being ahead of him in potions in third year!

After his final potions session, Harry informed Snape that he was leaving. 'My aunt decided that it would better if I went home until the attacker is caught, sir. But I wanted to thank you for the extra classes, they've helped me a lot.'

'I am sorry to hear that, Mr. Dursley… I look forward to seeing you in third year then, and we shall continue these sessions.' Snape's face was unreadable, but as Harry gathered his books and left with Draco, he liked to think that he would be missed.

Draco's voice trembled as they walked. 'You're leaving? You can't!'

'My auntie's really scared about what's going on,' sighed Harry. He continued, lightly, 'You'll be so much further along in class than I am, I hate it already.'

Draco glared at him, and Harry was shocked to see his eyes filled with tears. 'You're my only friend! You can't leave! You mustn't!'

'Draco, I've got to,' began Harry, confused at Draco's reaction. 'My aunt really wants me t-'

'No! Everyone keeps leaving me alone!' shouted Draco. He began running ahead of Harry.

'Draco, wait! It's not safe, come back!' yelled Harry, as Draco disappeared ahead. Harry was frightened of Draco's reaction; he had never seen the usually reserved boy so emotional. He hurried through a group of fourth year Gryffindors who threw him annoyed glances. He could see the back of Draco's white blond hair bobbing up and down in the distance, and he dashed after him.

Draco led him on a wild chase, up the stairs, through corridors that Harry had never been to before, and past a gallery of irritated portraits. Finally, out of breath and wheezing, Harry came to a stop. He had arrived at a plain stone corridor, devoid of furnishings and paintings, and he could no longer see Draco. The passage ended in a window, so Harry began checking each room for his friend. Most of the rooms were empty, disused classrooms, filled with broken desks, old books, and cracked cauldrons.

In the distance, Harry heard a whimper. 'Please, no, I don't want to, please. Don't make me!'

'Draco?' he called out, peering into each room, finding them completely vacant. The last room opened into an old girl's bathroom, and Harry blushed at the thought of entering. However, a melancholy sob emanating from the room drew him in.

'Draco? Is that you? Are you alright?' Harry's voice echoed in the old bathroom, accompanied only by the steady drip of water.

'No, I am NOT Draco!' The ghost of a young girl burst out of one of the toilets, spraying a disgusted Harry with water. 'I'm a GIRL, I'm MYRTLE. Who are YOU?'

Harry carefully wiped the toilet water off his glasses. 'My name's Harry, I'm looking for my friend, Draco. Have you seen him?'

The ghost began to cry again. 'Nobody ever comes here to see me, nobody cares! Everyone is just passing through, no one ever asks, "how are you, Myrtle? How is your toilet today?" They just carry on, living, and ignoring me.'

Harry gaped at her, unsure of what to say, still wondering where on earth Draco had gone. He never got the chance to reply.

Behind Myrtle, a great shape rose and a voice echoed in Harry's head. '_I am so hungry. I will tear you apart, I shall eat your organs, drink your blood, come to me, fill me.'_

Myrtle froze, and went a smoky grey. Harry never had time to scream. The only sound that was left was the constant drip of water, until the two were discovered by Argus Filch later that day.

* * *

_April 9th, 1993_

_Dear Mrs. Dursley,_

_We regret to inform you that your nephew, Harry Dursley, met with an unfortunate accident today. He was found petrified by our custodian, Argus Filch, in a disused bathroom. Please rest assured that he is merely petrified, not dead, and Hogwarts is currently working on a cure that will be ready in one month. Should you have any questions, please feel free to contact us._

_Madam Pomfrey_

_School Nurse._

The letter fluttered to the floor as Petunia's grip weakened. The blood drained from her face, and the world around her spun. Somehow, she staggered to a chair, the terrible words twisting through her mind. She sat, unmoving as the room darkened into night and numbness spread through her body and her heart. Harry was supposed to come home tomorrow. He was supposed to be _safe. _She, Petunia Dursley, was supposed to take care of him, and she had failed. Slowly, her sadness and fear turned into anger. A school was supposed to be a safe place. She shouldn't have been afraid to send her child there. Determination set in. The magical world had always tossed Petunia to and fro, and she never had any control. Today, she decided, would be the day that she took back that control. She sat and penned a short letter to Dumbledore. She didn't care if he didn't like her plan or not, she was not about to leave Harry's fate up to chance.

_Professor,_

_I've received the terrible news about Harry. I'll be coming to Hogwarts shortly. I can't sit here at home and wait. I must see him._

_Petunia._

She quickly packed a small trunk of things, and rushed off to catch the London train. A few hours later, Petunia stood cautiously at the entrance to Platform 9 3/4, her earlier spunk gone. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she sidled across the magical barrier and came to the other side. It was packed with relieved parents and children returning home- many until the following academic year. Petunia wished so badly that she was one of them.

Petunia usually ended her journey here on the platform, after putting Harry on the train. But today, she would be the one getting on board. Petunia did not have much of a plan beyond somehow getting to Hogwarts, and was relieved to find that the train was indeed working. She was lucky- it was the last day of term at Hogwarts, and the train would return one last time to the school. In the bustle of an unprecedented number of students leaving for the Easter holiday, no one took much notice of her. Petunia purchased her ticket for a galleon from a sleepy witch manning the booth who didn't appear to care who she sold tickets to. Now inside the Hogwarts Express, Petunia made herself comfortable on the plush red seat, and settled in for a long journey. She seemed to be the only person on the train, aside from the trolley lady. Hours passed and the sun had already dipped, colouring the sky orange, when the train slowed at the Hogsmeade station. Petunia had long dozed off, and woke with a jump as the steady motion ceased.

The platform was deserted, and a glance at the main street of the small village told her that every store was closed for the evening. Windows were snapped shut, curtains drawn, and she couldn't see a single soul around. Resigning herself to a long walk to the castle, Petunia hobbled off. Fortunately a horseless carriage came rumbling up to her, and she was too relieved at the thought of a lift to wonder what drove it. Her smart heels didn't lend much practicality to lengthy treks!

Petunia's first view of Hogwarts was very much unlike what Harry and Lily would have seen. When the first years arrived, a point was always made to have lights blazing at every window and turret, creating a fairy like aura. Now, it was dark, and Petunia was strongly reminded of Dracula's castle that she had seen once in a film. She shuddered, and a chill went over her. An air of danger hung around the school.

She was in the eye of the storm now.

* * *

AN: Thank you so much to all the follows, faves and reviews! I really appreciate them all :). Please let me know what you thought of this one!


	17. Chapter 17- The Reunion

_Easter Holidays, 1993- Petunia_

Petunia nervously walked up the castle steps, unsure of the reception she would get. She knew that muggles were not welcome- her own parents had only come for Lily's graduation, and even then her mother had confessed, they had felt out of place and uncomfortable. However, neither hell nor high water could keep her from Harry now, and certainly not a few old witches and wizards. As Petunia debated her next course of action- this was a distressingly _large_ castle-

she noticed students scuttling here and there. Those children whose parents simply couldn't bring them home had stayed at Hogwarts, dangerous as it was. A few of them glanced at her with mild interest, and she decided to take a chance with an officious looking redhead wearing a prefect badge.

Petunia feigned confidence, and walked up to him. 'Excuse me, could you point me in the direction of a teacher? I need to speak with someone about my nephew, Harry Dursley.'

The boy's eyes widened. 'Of course… you must be Harry's aunt. He's in the same year as my brother, Ron. I'll take you to Professor McGonagall right away. I'm Percy Weasley, by the way.'

Petunia followed the boy through several stone corridors. She vaguely remembered Harry mentioning a boy named Ron who his friend Draco disliked, and wondered if he were still here too, like Percy. Finally, they arrived at a heavy oak door. A gold plaque bore McGonagall's full name and title. Percy knocked smartly and a voice called them in.

'Mrs. Dursley! Oh, you must have come to see poor Harry. How did you ever manage the trip here?' She glanced at the Gryffindor prefect who was lingering at the door, obviously curious to hear what would be said. 'Percy, thank you. You may leave. Have a seat, Mrs. Dursley.'

Petunia sat with a sigh of relief. Tension had permeated her limbs from the moment she had read that awful letter until now. 'Professor, I do apologise, I know it isn't traditional for muggles to come here. I had to see Harry for myself, you understand.'

McGonagall nodded sympathetically. 'I'll take you to him, of course. Unfortunately, you can't stay more than one night… the ministry is quite firm on their rule about muggles here.'

McGonagall led her to the Hospital Wing. Several beds were cordoned off with white curtains, and Petunia suspected that those were the other victims of the attacker.

She approached Harry's bed with trepidation. 'Oh, my poor baby…'

He was stiff, and she might have thought he was a store mannequin, if not for the scared look stamped on his face. His skin was cold, reminding her of lifeless plastic. She sat with him for several hours, until it was properly dark, and the hospital wing was dimly lit by floating candles. She hoped that he was not in any pain.

'Petunia.' A soft voice shook her from her musings. It was Dumbledore. 'I am so sorry, my dear. I should have brought you here myself.'

His face was lined with new wrinkles, and his eyes lacked their usual sparkle. He looked older and more tired than Petunia had ever seen him. Even the during the war, when he had first taken her to the cottage in Cullfield, he had seemed in much better spirits. Today, he appeared downcast, and hopeless.

Petunia reached over and took his hand. 'It's alright Professor. I know a lot has been happening. Besides, now I've seen Harry, and all I can do is wait.'

Dumbledore brightened. 'Yes, the mandrakes- the cure- will be mature in a few weeks, and Harry will be back to his old self.'

'He'll be so disappointed to have missed so much of the final term,' smiled Petunia, thinking of Harry's competitive spirit.

The brief glow of happiness that had lit the headmaster's face dimmed. 'Unfortunately, the school will be closing after the students are cured. The ministry is allowing us this time to tie up loose ends, and then Hogwarts will be closed.'

'No! You can't close the school!' shouted Petunia, causing Madam Pomfrey to turn around and glare at her. Lowering her voice, she continued, 'You can't professor! Harry loves this place. And it was such a struggle to get him in to begin with!'

'I'm sorry,' sighed Dumbledore. 'Unless we apprehend the attacker, the school will be closed. And the teachers are far too occupied trying to keep the students safe to really look into it.'

'Then why doesn't the ministry send their own investigators?' said Petunia, enraged.

He smiled wanly. 'Politics, my dear. The Board of Governors would like to see me gone, and this is a good excuse. I do believe the ministry will reopen at some point, with a new headmaster in place.'

'That's not fair!' cried Petunia, risking Madam Pomfrey's wrath. 'The students love you! It won't be the same.'

Dumbledore smiled sadly, and patted her hand, and left. He seemed to be resigned to the school's fate of closure. Petunia slumped into the armchair next to the bed, determined to spend as much time as she could with her nephew. She drifted off, and woke to a cold, dark hospital wing. A muffled sob from the side of Harry's bed almost made her jump, but she kept a firm grip on herself, and kept still.

'I'm sorry Harry… I didn't mean for this to happen,' whispered a small, cloaked figure standing next to Harry. 'You were nice to me, and look what I've done. Please forgive me.'

With a sniffle, the child ran from the room. Petunia leapt up as quietly as she could, and followed them. As she hid behind suits of armour and pillars, Petunia began to feel ridiculous. Whoever this child was, she thought, they were probably just a friend of Harry's and had some misplaced guilt about his petrification. She stopped feeling silly when they arrived at an empty corridor ending in a window- a dead end. The tiny figure slipped into a door at the end of the hallway, and Petunia ducked into an empty room to watch, and wait. They never came out. Finally, after an hour of waiting, Petunia decided to peek into the room the child had disappeared into. It was an old bathroom and clearly not in use with its broken sinks and leaky toilets._ A disused bathroom_. Horrified, she realised that this was the room in which Harry had been attacked. It was empty. She wondered where the child had gone and why they would even come to here to begin with. Backing out, she took one last look at the room, and fled.

Hogwarts during the day was confusing, and Hogwarts at night was even worse. She wandered the corridors trying to find the hospital wing in vain. At least she'd managed to see quite a lot of the school, she thought. Petunia had begun to wish that she'd never left Cullfield. What had she really accomplished? Following a mysterious, upset child throughout the school? Getting lost? After passing the same statue of a juggling wizard (Jeremiah, the Juggler of Jamaica, who, according to the plaque, was chased off the island in 1767 after locals realised he was _too_ good at juggling, and was therefore a wizard) for the fifth time, Petunia sat, ready to burst into tears.

Behind her, a silky voice emerged from the darkness. 'Well, well… a student out of bed. Interesting.'

A pair of hands hauled her up, and she got a look at her rescuer. They stared at each other, recognition dawning on each of their faces.

'Severus Snape?'

'Petunia? Petunia Evans?'

* * *

_Summer 1992 - Easter 1993- Severus_

Severus was worried. After years of being invisible, his dark mark had slowly begun to make an appearance late that summer. At first, he had convinced himself that it was a trick of the mind. He was merely seeing things, probably an effect of breathing in too many fumes in the potions lab. He couldn't deny its return at Halloween that year. A distinct outline had begun to show itself on his arm.

Severus showed Dumbledore, who, for once, was serious. Somehow, the Dark Lord was coming back. It was confirmed when Lucius owled him excitedly- his mark was coming back, as well as the marks of other members of the circle. Several of the other death eaters who had escaped death and Azkaban the first time around were talking, and planning for _his_ return. Over the next few months, Lucius insisted on meetings with the surviving death eaters, searching for clues on how to help their master return to life. He even canceled the annual Malfoy Christmas Ball in order to prepare for the Dark Lord's return. Lucius had also left Draco at Hogwarts for the holiday season, and Severus' heart went out to the lonely child. He remembered having far too many solitary holidays in his childhood, and made a point to keep his godson company. Even so, Draco was unusually quiet. He was always a composed child- he had to be, with Lucius as a father- but he always chattered happily with Severus. Now, he barely talked, picked at his food, and there were dark circles under his eyes. A flame of anger rose in Severus' chest. Lucius was so lucky, to have this adoring son, and he was neglecting him for his insane lord. He made up his mind to talk to him. But Lucius would hear none of it.

Lucius waved him away dismissively. 'Draco will be grateful, Severus, when we return the Dark Lord to power. It will be a better world for all of us.'

'There is no guarantee that he's coming back Lucius!' exploded Severus, frustrated. 'You're alienating Draco for something that might never happen.'

'Draco will be fine. It is my duty to ensure a better life for him, Severus,' said Lucius, calmly. 'A world with muggles stealing our magic is not a world I want for my son. The Dark Lord will ensure that magic is preserved for people like us.'

He wouldn't listen, and Severus was forced to watch Draco fall further into himself. He was thankful when Harry Dursley had returned from the Christmas vacation. His presence seemed to brighten Draco, and Severus was pleased to see some colour return to the boy's cheeks. Then, of course, despite all the security measures in place, Dursley had gone and gotten himself petrified. Severus pinched his nose in frustration. _Why_ did these children not listen? Draco was distraught, and babbled on about Harry following him and them getting separated. He'd had to dose him with a strong calming draught, as it was clear the boy was on the verge of hysterics. He felt angry and frustrated with Lucius all over again. Draco should have been at home for the Easter holidays, getting fussed over by his mother and spending time with his father, especially with what had happened to his friend.

Lucius had ignored Severus' concern. 'The boy was just a muggleborn, Severus. Who knows, this might even be our Lord's doing. He might be cleansing the school for us. Draco should not have been friends with him to begin with. Hopefully he has learnt his lesson.'

Severus was furious, but let it go for Draco's sake. It would not do for Lucius to decide to cut Severus off from his godson.

Now, Dumbledore insisted on students being chaperoned by teachers during the day, and patrols during the night. Severus had the second shift- Pomona Pomfrey had happily retired to bed at midnight. Severus stalked the halls in an increasingly bad mood. He had already caught a pair of would be lovebirds in a closet near the astronomy tower and docked twenty points each from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor respectively. He also found one of the Weasley twins- he wasn't sure which- in the kitchens, pilfering snacks from the pantry, and happily took another twenty points from Gryffindor. After delivering each of the errant students back to their respective houses, he continued his ill tempered guarding of the school. He was just rounding the corner when he caught sight of a girl, dressed in muggle clothes.

'Well, well, a student out of bed… interesting,' he said quietly, and pulled her up. Familiar blue eyes looked into his, and he was enveloped in a rush of childhood memories. What on earth was Petunia Evans doing at Hogwarts?

* * *

_Petunia_

She thought quickly. She knew Severus was a teacher here- he was Harry's favourite professor after all. But she hadn't thought of that in her frantic rush to see her nephew. And Dumbledore probably didn't think she would leave the Hospital Wing to wander the halls in the dark, and therefore run into Severus.

'What are you doing here, Petunia?' Severus was staring at her in confusion.

Petunia blinked rapidly, a terrible habit she had when she was uncomfortable. 'I… always wanted to see Hogwarts! I wanted to see where Lily went to school!'

Severus glared at her. 'Liar. You always blink too much when you're lying. What are you really doing here?'

Curse Lily for telling him that, she thought. Well, it was a weak excuse anyway.

Perhaps Dumbledore could get her out of this. 'Oh, you don't believe me? Ask Professor Dumbledore, he invited me!'

'Fine!'

'FINE!'

They walked in an angry silence as she followed Severus to what she assumed was the entrance to Dumbledore's quarters. A stone gargoyle guarded the entrance.

'Cotton candy,' said Severus, quite seriously to the gargoyle. For an instant, Petunia wondered if he had gone mad. Then the gargoyle sprang to the side, revealing a door and a spiral staircase. They made their way to Dumbledore's office. Various instruments buzzed and whistled around the room, while portraits snoozed on the walls. A small bird with newly growing feathers was snuggled in a cage. Petunia would have loved to spend a day poking and prodding at the fascinating things there.

Dumbledore emerged from a room at the side of the office, dressed in a purple nightshirt with a matching nightcap. 'Severus? What is the matter, dear boy? Has there been another petrification?'

'No, but we seem to have an intruder of sorts,' said Severus, prodding Petunia forward.

'Petunia! Is everything alright, my dear?' said Dumbledore, glancing between her and Severus with interest.

'Wait, you know who she is?' yelped Severus in disbelief. 'Then you did invite her here?'

'Oh, not quite.' Dumbledore searched a nearby drawer and pulled out some maple candies. 'Have one of these, children. I got them from the Ministry of Maple Magic the last time I visited Canada!'

Petunia happily took a sweet. She had no idea how Dumbledore intended to sort this out, but he didn't seem upset, which relieved her. She rather liked the old man, and hated to think that she had disappointed him.

'What do you mean, "not quite"?' growled Severus.

'Well, Mrs. Dursley here-,'

'Dursley? As in HARRY?' Severus leapt up. 'What's going on?'

Dumbledore looked at Petunia. 'With your permission, I'd like to tell Severus the entire story. I believe he will be an ally. I trust him completely.'

Petunia considered it. Severus did help turn the war to their side all those years ago. His spying had contributed to saving her sister's life, as well as those of Harry and James. Perhaps it would be good for Harry's favourite teacher to know the truth. As much as she had disliked him growing up, this could help.

'Yes, professor. You may tell him.'

Dumbledore summoned a pot of tea, and a place of warm chocolate chip cookies. 'This is going to be a bit of a long story. You should get settled in, Severus.'

An hour later, Severus sat, shell shocked, while Petunia and Dumbledore nibbled on cookies and sipped tea.

'But… how did I not see it?' he kept wondering aloud. 'He looks exactly as James did at that age. How did I not see that?'

Dumbledore smiled cheerfully. 'Oh, you weren't looking for it, of course. Harry Potter was dead. You wouldn't think to associate this boy with a child who had passed away.'

'And he's nothing like James, anyway,' said Petunia, 'he's really perhaps the best parts of Lily.'

Dumbledore stirred his tea thoughtfully. 'I think he's most like you, Petunia. You did raise him after all.'

Petunia smiled at the comparison. Harry was a far nicer child than she was, and it was a lovely thing to be told that they were anything alike.

'What happens now?' asked Severus quietly. 'What do I do with this information? Where will Petunia go?'

'For now, you do nothing. As for Mrs. Dursley, I believe she will return home,' said Dumbledore, gently.

Petunia coughed slightly. 'Actually Professor, I was wondering if I could stay a little longer? I'm on holiday now, and perhaps I could stay and do some investigating, since the teachers are busy patrolling the school. It might be nothing, but I want to know why that child came to see Harry, and where they disappeared to.'

Dumbledore looked at her, considering the proposal. 'The school is closing anyway, and I don't see how it can hurt. Severus, you're in charge of making sure she doesn't get petrified.'

'What?' screeched Severus, jumping up.

'It's all settled, then,' said Dumbledore, ignoring Severus' protests. 'Please escort Mrs. Dursley back to her quarters, Severus. Off to bed, both of you. Chop chop!'

* * *

AN: Hi everyone! Sorry for not updating last week, I have a lot going on right now. But rest assured, I will complete this fic in a few months. Please let me know what you thought about this update! xx


	18. Chapter 18- The Chamber of Secrets

_1992-1993- Voldemort_

Voldemort was not pleased. Being fused to the back of this pathetic, greedy fool's head, covered by a turban all the time, had not been on his agenda of regaining power. At least the fool believed his empty promises- he did everything Voldemort ordered. Despite knowing it would curse him to a terrible half-life, Quirrell drank unicorn blood to keep them alive. His desperation to dominate those who had wronged him helped him get through the piercing headaches that plagued him after Voldemort possessed him.

Still, it was not enough. Voldemort was unsure of who he could trust to bring him back fully. His most trusted death eater, Bellatrix, was dead, and the rest had fled or pled innocence after his downfall. He had to wait, and bide his time.

Then, the petrifications began. He knew his diary had been activated. With each petrification, and with every drop of ink poured into the book, the fragment of his soul from the diary would become stronger, and eventually be able to break free. Voldemort knew that if he wanted to attain full humanity, he and Quirrell would have to find the writer, and fuse the two soul pieces together.

Quirrell investigated each student, and they narrowed down their suspects to one child. They followed this child, until they saw them enter the Chamber several times, and Voldemort knew. Soon, it would be time for the souls to unite, and he would be whole again.

* * *

_Summer 1992- Easter 1993- Draco_

Nothing he ever did was good enough for Father. Draco had come second in first year exams, beaten only by Hermione Granger. Father glanced at the report with contempt, ignoring the positive comments about Draco's intellect, coldly suggesting that he might want to do some extra studying that summer. Mother comforted him, and had Draco's favourite drink- hot chocolate with marshmallows- sent to his room. Creamy and rich, it warmed him for a while, but a chill remained in the pit of his stomach. He wanted so badly to make Father proud, and he had failed.

For the rest of the summer, Draco studied continuously, occasionally skipping meals to complete his work. He became thin and pale and Mother worried for him. Father, though, didn't seem to notice or care. He was wrapped up in his feud with Arthur Weasley, making Draco resent the redheaded family even more. It was all Lucius Malfoy could talk about- Mr Weasley being a blood traitor, and 'giving him what he deserved'.

At breakfast one morning, as Draco listlessly pushed some porridge around his plate, Father snapped suddenly. 'Draco, pay attention! Did you hear what I said?'

Mother, gentle as always, came to his defense. 'Draco is just lost in his school work, dear. He's been working quite hard.'

Father huffed, but Draco thought he caught the hint of a smile. 'We will be going to Diagon Alley in an hour for your school books. See that you are ready.'

'Yes, father,' said Draco in surprise. Father had not cared to accompany them the year before. Mother had done everything. He was secretly pleased, wondering if his efforts at studying had impressed his father.

Excited and nervous, Draco rushed about getting ready to go to Diagon Alley with his parents. He did not want to risk being late. He dressed as smartly as he could, in dark blue robes with a pressed shirt underneath. Father hated people who looked unkempt, and Draco wanted to impress him. He waited in the drawing room, next to the grand fire place, and listened as Mother nattered on about the new school robes she planned to get for him. At precisely eleven o'clock, Father arrived, impeccably dressed in robes of forest green. Together, the three of them flooed to Diagon Alley. Walking down the street, Draco swelled with pride as people cleared the way for them, staring at the richly attired trio. He wanted nothing more than to command that sort of respect, just like his father and mother did. Nothing out of the ordinary happened at first- they visited a few shops, getting preferential treatment at each. At lunch, they dined at the fanciest restaurant on the street, the Vintage Walk. Draco thought he spotted Celestina Warbeck, the famed singer, sitting in one of the booths, and he tried not to stare. A few higher ups from the Ministry of Magic passed by and greeted his parents. Draco smiled to himself as he munched on delicately flavoured mussels and pasta- there would be no chance for those ginger nuisances to disrupt his wonderful day. They couldn't even afford to step foot in here! Father had filet mignon (the most expensive dish on the menu), and Mother ate a salad. Cutlery clinked softly, and a harp strummed by itself in a corner as Draco did his best to mind his table manners.

Unfortunately, things went awry at Flourish and Blotts. The entire Weasley clan was there, and Draco's heart sank. He could see Father's lips thinning. He only hoped that the Weasleys wouldn't provoke Father. He badly wanted to have a perfect day with his parents.

The two families ignored each other at first, and Draco was hopeful that his perfect day would not be ruined. They collected his books for the new year and he stood stiffly to the side, wishing he could look at the new prank spell books that had just come out. But, no, a Malfoy had to have a sense of decorum. He couldn't wander off the way Ron Weasley did, and laugh with his companions across the store. The Weasley's carefree attitudes struck a chord of jealousy in him, and he wished, just for a moment, that he could trade places. An unexpected crash in the quiet bookstore shook him out of his reverie. His father, the most dignified person he knew, was tussling with Mr. Weasley, knocking over shelves and displays. Mr. Weasley shoved him, and his father staggered back, almost colliding with the youngest Weasley. Distracted by the mess and chaos, no one saw Lucius Malfoy slipping a small, black book onto the small Weasley's pile of battered books. No one, except his son. A wave of resentment washed over the boy. This trip to Diagon Alley had not been about him at all. It was only ever about ruining Mr. Weasley. Angrily, Draco snatched the book, and hid it in his robes. He had tried so hard that summer to make his father proud, and it was all for nothing. If all his father cared about was some vendetta against the Weasleys', then Draco would see to it that he didn't get what he wanted. He tucked the book securely into his pocket, and followed his parents out of the store.

That night, Father was in a good mood. He smiled, and joked with them, and was almost kind to Dobby, their house elf. Had Draco not realised the real reason for Father's sudden desire to help with his school shopping, he might have been happy. He forced a smile at Father's good mood, and quietly ate his roast chicken and baked potatoes.

Later, in his room, he glared at the small, unassuming book. The book was blank, and the only bit of writing on it was the name T.M Riddle inscribed on the first page. Draco had never heard of T.M Riddle, and assumed he (or she) was a muggle who owned the book before. Why Father was so delighted at having passed it on to the Weasleys was a mystery to Draco. Frustrated, he flung the book onto his desk. A quill, still wet with ink from his studies, slid on to it, splattering ink over the blank page. To Draco's amazement, the ink sank into the pages, leaving no trace. Snatching his quill, he carefully scribbled a word.

'Hello?'

The word sank into the page, leaving it pristine. For a few minutes, nothing happened. Just as Draco was about to decide that book was simply spelled with a good cleaning charm, words began to appear.

'Hello. My name is Tom Riddle. What is your name? How did you come by my book?'

Excitedly, Draco began scrawling. Tom Riddle told him that he was simply a memory in the book, much like a magical painting. In return, Draco told him about himself, his woes with Father's disapproval over his school marks, his dislike of the Weasleys, his desire to be as great and powerful as his parents. Tom sympathised, listened to him, and reassured him that he would indeed be great. He agreed that Father was far too harsh, and should pay more attention to him. As summer faded, Draco wrote more and more in the diary. He was secretive about his book, spending hours talking with Tom. He poured his heart into it, and Tom Riddle became his best friend.

For a while, Draco was happy. Father's buoyant mood continued, and he spent more time with Draco and Mother than usual. He joined them for supper more times than he had all summer, and even gifted Draco a Nimbus 2001- the expectation, of course, being that Draco make the Quidditch team that year. Draco didn't care though. The gift of the broom meant that Father had faith in him and that was all that he wanted. He returned to Hogwarts in September with a friend in his pocket, and his hope for the semester (and beating Hermione Granger) renewed. He was pleased that Father seemed to want to be closer to him.

* * *

It began to fall apart on Halloween. Draco wrote home often, breezy epithets describing his classes that week, his silent academic competition with Hermione Granger, and his friends (only the 'proper' pureblood Slytherin friends though. He never mentioned Harry Dursley, a Hufflepuff muggleborn). Mother wrote back frequently, usually about the house, and the house elves and what dinner party she had been to recently. Father had never replied, and Draco assumed that he never bothered to read his letters. The week before Halloween, he carelessly mentioned the lower mark he had received for a piece of homework. His essay on the advantages and disadvantages of the expelliarmus spell had gotten only an Acceptable. He didn't think twice about it- Mother wasn't as strict about school as Father, and he would do better on the next bit of homework.

On October 31st, tea time found Draco at the Slytherin table tucking into some hearty chicken sandwiches, rich chocolate cake, and scones. Biting into a buttery scone, he spotted his black owl, Berian, fluttering into the Great Hall, a thick letter clutched in his talons. His scone, forgotten on his plate, grew cold as he eagerly tore the envelope open. His heart sank as he recognised Father's precise penmanship. Instead of a cheerful reply from Mother, he had gotten a stinging letter from Father, detailing what a disappointment he was yet again. Malfoys didn't receive marks below Exceeds Expectations, and even that would be pushing it. At this rate, his father wrote, he wasn't even fit to work in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office. Draco furiously blinked away tears. Slytherin house would have a field day if they saw him crying. Fortunately, at that moment, Berian nipped at his finger expectantly. An owl treat after a letter was tradition, and Draco had none on him. He excused himself and hurried to the Owlery. He fed Berian his treat, but fled when the smallest Weasley entered, herself in tears over something. Draco angrily wondered what she had to cry about. Her stupid family was so happy and loving. All he got was a father who only ever saw him when he had done something wrong. He slipped into a dark, cold alcove outside the Great Hall, and curled up to have a good cry and write to Tom. He could hear the other students chattering as they entered the hall for the Halloween Feast, and warm smells of pumpkin pie and caramel coated apples wafted out occasionally. Tom replied with such empathy, agreeing that father was unfair.

A voice startled him. 'Hey… you alright, mate?'

Through his red and swollen eyes, he saw Justin Finch-Fletchley. A stupid Hufflepuff. He absolutely didn't want him tittering to his housemates about seeing Draco Malfoy crying in the dark.

'I'm fine! Leave me alone!' Draco's voice broke a bit as he held back tears.

Justin looked at him uncertainly. 'You don't seem okay… do you want to talk about it? It might make you feel better.'

'I said, leave me alone!' shouted Draco angrily, tears freely coursing down his face now.

Justin backed up a bit, but a determined look crossed his face. 'Look mate, you don't seem okay. Let me get Madam Pomfrey for you, or something?'

Draco wasn't sure what happened after that. He felt oddly light, and Justin's voice echoed in the distance, muffled by a strange hissing. The hissing was close, and Draco realised it was coming from him. Tranquility washed over him, and he was no longer in control of his body. Later, he would struggle to remember what happened. Something large emerged from an opening in the wall, and Justin turned and ran, freezing and falling to the ground after passing a gleaming suit of armour. It was darkness after that. He came back to himself as the school was heading back to the dormitories after the feast. The wall was now painted with words, and Draco couldn't remember them being there before.

'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened, enemies of the heir, beware'

Draco vaguely remembered stories about the Chamber of Secrets, told to him by his parents, but he had always assumed that it wasn't real. Now, he wasn't sure. Students tramped into the corridor, full of good food and laughter, and Draco did his best to blend in. He tried to recover himself, and jauntily shouted out the phrase written on the wall, earning him a severe look from Harry. The students were hurried away from the scene, and Draco hoped that that was the end of it. But as he got ready for bed, he found his robes stained with paint. That night, his dreams teemed with monsters, who often turned into his father.

He told Tom about what had happened, and he reassured him that it was just a dream. He had been so tired from crying he imagined it all. Silly muggleborn had done it to himself, Tom insisted. Draco almost believed it. The rest of the semester passed by, and Draco managed to keep his marks up, making sure to write home about it. Father didn't write again, but Mother seemed proud. Holiday decorations went up in the castle, and Draco packed his belongings in anticipation of his trip home. Christmas at Malfoy Manor was always beautiful, and Father usually took time off to spend a few hours with Draco and Mother. They usually even held a massive ball, and invited the crème de la crème of Pureblood society. The day before he was due to return, he received an unexpected letter from Mother.

_December 2nd 1992_

_Dearest Draco,_

_I am so sorry, my love, but unfortunately Father and I have decided that it's best that you stay at Hogwarts this year for Christmas. We've got ever so many meetings with Father's associates, and we aren't even having a ball this year. It won't much fun for you at all, my dear. You'll have a grand time with your friends at school though! You'll love the feast, and Christmas crackers that Professor Dumbledore orders. And Uncle Sev will keep you company! And of course you'll get loads of presents from Father and me. Doesn't that sound so much better than spending the holiday going to stuffy meetings? And trust me, my dearest boy, Father and I are trying to make the world a better place for you. You'll appreciate it when we've accomplished what we're setting out to do. We are doing what we must, to make a better life for you, and you must do your duty too, and stay at Hogwarts without a fuss. Remember, sweetheart, a Malfoy always does his duty._

_Love,_

_Mother._

Draco crumbled the letter in his fist, his eyes dry this time. Of course they didn't want him at home. He methodically unpacked his trunk and went to bed, his mind numb. He couldn't sleep. He tried to maintain a sense of blank calm, but intrusive thoughts kept popping into his head. What if his parents didn't want him anymore? What if he was relegated to staying at Hogwarts all the time like an orphan? He got up and poured his feelings into the diary. Tom wrote back words of comfort. He had never written so much before… he felt oddly weak, but happier. Still, he couldn't sleep. He snuck out of the Slytherin common room and wandered about the dark, still castle. The only sound he could hear was the soft breathing of the portraits as they slumbered. He approached the library, thinking of getting a book to bore himself to sleep, but a blue flickering light caught his eye. Someone else was out and about. Noiselessly, he approached from the shadows, and caught a glimpse of his fellow rule-breaker- Hermione Granger. Irritation swept over him. She didn't need to swot any more than she already did. Clearly, beating him, and the rest of the year wasn't enough for her. Stupid muggleborn, constantly trying outshine everyone, he thought angrily. As his rage at the girl spiked, the airy feeling came over him again, and he gave into it. He didn't think about it when he got back to his bed, and he didn't think about it when Hermione was found and panicked whispers floated through the school. He nodded and agreed when Uncle Sev made him promise not to go anywhere alone. He carried on through the Christmas holiday, and did his duty, like he was supposed to.

* * *

Term started again, and Draco dreaded seeing Harry. He had boasted to his friend about the wonderful Malfoy Christmas parties, and had been too embarrassed to admit that he had had to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas after all. He stiffly confessed to remaining at the castle. Pity filled Harry's eyes, and Draco could not bear it. Accepting Harry's sympathy would mean admitting that his parents were less than perfect, and he simply couldn't. Besides, Tom had told him that Harry could never understand, coming from a house where he was constantly fussed over. Draco rushed off, and let his feet take him wherever they wanted. He found himself outside a disused bathroom. Water dripped incessantly, and the room smelt of mildew. Turning in disgust, he made to leave the room… but he couldn't. His legs moved without his command while he sank into a dreamy state. He watched as he hissed at the sink. A hole opened up, and he slid into it, falling and slipping until he reached the bottom. A vast cavern, filled with snake carvings, greeted him at the bottom. All night, he wandered the tunnels leading out of chamber, never stopping, always followed by something large, with rotting breath. Finally, he emerged from a hole on the lake shore. Covered by years of growth of shrubbery, it was hidden to the school. Dawn coloured the sky pink as he dreamily walked the edge of the lake. A girl sat at the lakeshore, tying the laces of her skates. Draco didn't know her, and in his dream state, didn't particularly care. He was so tired. He let the monster have what it wanted, and he slipped back into the tunnel. Later, he heard that Cho Chang from Ravenclaw had been found petrified. Rumours swirled around the school, but Draco kept quiet and plodded on through his studies. He barely slept and when he did his dreams were filled with hissing and the rotten breath of the monster. He fell into himself and relied on the diary even more than ever. Uncle Sev pulled him aside several times to question on him, to check his temperature. He always looked dissatisfied when he allowed Draco to leave. Harry kept shooting him concerned glances during their potions sessions. Draco did not care. All he cared about was his diary.

Just before the Easter holiday, Draco received another letter from Mother, telling him that he would again be staying at Hogwarts. He had been expecting it and hadn't bothered packing anything. He didn't care much. It just meant more time to talk to Tom. He had fallen into a blank complacency, doing what he needed to do at school, chatting with his housemates to keep up a facade of normalcy, but he constantly itched to write in the diary. He felt nothing… until his last potions class with Uncle Sev, and Harry. His friend was leaving Hogwarts. Draco would be alone. Until that moment, Draco thought all he needed was the diary to be happy. Now that he was losing his friend, he knew the diary, and Tom, were not enough. He confronted Harry, and as they argued, he could feel the weightless sensation enveloping him again.

'Not… Harry,' he thought incoherently, and ran. He fled through the halls of the school, Harry close at his heels. Draco couldn't bear it if his friend were to fall victim to the monster. He fought the light feeling as hard as he could. He tried to maintain control. It was in vain. The monster struck again, and he was powerless to stop it. When he came back to himself, Harry was lay on the wet floor of the bathroom, petrified. The monster silently slid back into the passage, and Draco was left sobbing over his friend's body. He hadn't meant for it to happen. All he had wanted was for Harry to stay at Hogwarts, to not leave him alone. Now, he was alone anyway.

The following night, Draco quietly visited Harry in the hospital wing. A woman sat on an armchair next to his bed, dozing. With her blonde hair and fair skin, he might have thought her his mother, though her face was softer, and lacked Narcissa Malfoy's sharp features. This must be Harry's aunt. Draco's guilt intensified.

He leant down to Harry's stiff body and whispered, 'I'm sorry Harry. I swear I'll fix this somehow.'

Tears welled in his eyes, and he fled the hospital wing, fearing another incident. Weeks passed, and Uncle Sev kept assuring him that the mandrakes would soon be mature, and Harry would be back in no time. Draco nodded listlessly. He tried to stop writing in the diary, believing that it was the cause of his problems. But it called to him. The monster hissed at him from the bowels of the castle, and the more he avoided the diary, the louder the hissing became. Draco begged Tom to tell him what was going on.

'I'm sorry Draco, but I might have not told you the entire truth when we first met. I was trapped in the diary by a terrible person, and I've got to get out. The petrifications will help to set me free. I need you to help me do this.'

'But it's hurting people!' Draco tearfully wrote back.

'Friends help friends, don't they Draco? And aren't we friends?' Tom wrote to him, beguiling him, convincing him. 'I promise when I get what I need, I'll stop. And besides, all of your friends will be fine.'

Draco couldn't argue with that. Uncle Sev had promised that the potion made from the mandrakes would cure the petrified students. And, despite everything, he still trusted Tom. He had been there for him when no one else was. That made Tom good, didn't it? He wrote furiously in the diary after that.

Tom boasted to him about his plans often. 'After I'm free from the diary, I'll need to make some more horcruxes. I've got a few you know. I've made a ring into one, and a locket. Old Hufflepuff's cup. Ravenclaw's diadem.'

Curiously, Draco asked, 'What's a horcrux?'

There was a long pause. 'They are objects that will help me get what I want.'

Confused, Draco wrote back, 'What do you need them for Tom? I thought all you needed was to get out of the diary?'

'Getting out of this wretched book will give me life, yes. But creating more horcruxes will ensure my immortality.'

Draco was bewildered. For the first time, he truly wondered who Tom Riddle really was.

The mandrakes grew stronger and matured, and Draco became thinner and paler. He thought he could hear Tom whispering to him in his dreams, and felt his presence strongly. He knew the time was getting closer to release Tom from the book, and he was relieved. Soon, this nightmare would be over. Tom would be free, and Harry would be back.

Nearly a month after Harry had been petrified, the mandrakes were mature, Uncle Sev set about brewing the potion to bring the students back. Tom called to Draco, and instructed him to go to the Chamber of Secrets. He was strong enough now. There, he said, they would complete the ritual to set him free.

Draco drifted down to the Chamber. He was so weak now. Only the thought of being free of this gave him the strength to walk to the vast atrium. Pillars encircled by carvings of writhing serpents towered over a stone altar. Their eyes glimmered greenly at Draco as he set the diary in front of him. A silver knife, encrusted by emeralds gleamed brightly next to the cold shrine. Words began to appear on the page. 'Now, Draco, you must cut your hand and let a drop fall onto the book. It will give me the strength to break free.'

Draco obediently made a small cut on his finger, and watched as a single crimson droplet fell onto the book. Like the ink before it, the blood disappeared into the page, leaving it pristine. Draco sighed in relief. It was over. This was the end of his part. He turned to leave, but found he couldn't. He was rooted to the floor, and worse, his finger had begun to spurt copious amounts of blood onto the diary. A small cut such as his shouldn't have bled so much. A flood of ink burst through the pages of the book as a hand escaped the pages and gripped his tightly. More of his blood drained into the book and Draco could feel his life force draining away as more of Tom Riddle emerged.

Soon, Tom Riddle escaped the pages that had trapped him. Dark hair, fair skin and strikingly refined features made him a handsome boy. He wore Slytherin robes, and a Head Boy's badge was pinned to his chest. In other circumstances, he might have been someone that Draco would have looked up to.

He smiled at Draco, his teeth white and perfect. 'Thank you, Draco Malfoy. Your sacrifice will be appreciated. Now, I must say goodbye.'

He left Draco lying in a crumbled heap on the dirty floor, and sauntered off. Draco could do nothing but watch as Tom left him to die. Defeated, he closed his eyes, not caring if he ever opened them again. In his heart, he had known that Tom would not keep his promise. He would never truly be free.

A voice woke him out of his doze. 'Well, well, Mr. Malfoy, whatever are you doing here?'

It was Professor Quirrell. A spark of hope electrified him, and he found the strength to sit up. 'Professor, help, please. I need to go to Madam Pomfrey.'

A low, hissing voice sounded from behind Quirrell. 'Quirrell, he is the child who activated the diary. My soul fragment must be here somewhere. We must find him, and join.'

Horrified, Draco watched as Quirrell unwound his turban, and turned around. Instead of hair, or skin, the back of the teacher's head was marred by a twisted face. Draco had seen enough photographs from his parents' glory days as Death Eaters to know who it was- Lord Voldemort. Weakly, he dragged himself away. He knew enough of the Dark Lord's merciless ways, and his disgust for weakness to remain in his sight. It didn't seem that either Quirrell or the Dark Lord cared about him though. Quirrell was too busy trying to find Tom to bother about a dying boy.

A smooth voice echoed in the chamber, and Tom Riddle strode out of the shadows. 'Well, well, if it isn't… me. Hello, Lord Voldemort.'

The face at the back of Quirrell's head smirked. 'Finally. I have waited so long for this. Let us join. Together we will be strong.'

Draco realised that he had been conversing with a young Lord Voldemort for months.

Tom Riddle and his older incarnation gripped hands and chanted, '_Simul animabus nostris_, _simul animabus nostris_, _simul animabus nostris.'_

Slumped on the ground, Draco heard a sickening, wet rip as Quirrell began shrieking. Voldemort's face tore itself away from Quirrell's head, leaving a gaping, bloody wound. The Dark Lord began to melt into Tom, whose skin rippled and stretched as his bones shattered and cracked. His robes ripped and tore as his body changed. Finally, they were one. The new Lord Voldemort looked as snake like as ever, but younger and stronger. Quirrell fell to the floor, twitching, as Voldemort flexed his long fingers.

'Pl- please. My Lord… it _hurts_,' Quirrell moaned, a pool of blood widening around him.

Voldemort glanced at the prone, bloody figure at his feet. 'A pity. You would have made quite the loyal soldier, with your desperation.'

He pressed his fingers to his forearm, and a black tattoo appeared. 'I've called my loyal followers. You have done me an immeasurable service.'

He raised his head and hissed. Draco knew he was calling the monster from the depths of the chamber.

'My basilisk will attend to you, Quirrell. You have been honoured beyond measure, my boy. First, you gave me life, and now you will feed my pet.'

Quirrell gurgled in pain and reached out, his fingers barely brushing the hem of Voldemort's tattered robe as he disappeared into the darkness of the chamber. His footsteps faded into the shadows and were replaced by a loud slither. Draco curled into the corner, terrified.

'No, no, no…,' whispered Quirrell. 'Please, not like this… not like this!'

Draco screwed his eyes shut as the basilisk entered the chamber. But he couldn't block out the sounds. Quirrell's screams were soon replaced by the sickening crunch of bones and tearing of flesh. It seemed like an eternity to Draco, but it was soon over. Quirrell was not a large man. Its belly now full, the snake slithered further into the chamber. Draco tried to stand, but he was far too weak. He had lost too much blood, and had been frail even before that. If he couldn't get out himself, he would have to call someone who could.

'Dobby. Help.'

A loud crack echoed through the vast room, and Draco was afraid that the basilisk would return.

'Master Draco! What is happening?' the elf screeched.

'Dobby, please, get me out of here!' whispered Draco.

Dobby grabbed his arm, and tried to apparate. A deafening boom shook the room. Dust and stone rained down upon them.

Tears filled Dobby's eyes. 'Dobby is sorry master Draco, but Dobby cannot apparate with you out of here. The magic is too strong.'

Draco slumped back hopelessly. He was dying, he knew that. He could close his eyes and go to sleep forever in this dark, cold cavern. His parents would be sad for a while, but they would get over it, he thought. But he could also use his last moments for good. He knew some of Tom's- the Dark Lord's- plan. He told Dobby as much as he could remember- about the diary that his father had tried to slip to Ginny Weasley, how he had written in it and started the petrifications, the horcruxes Tom had told him about, the Dark Lord coming back. He knew now that no matter what his parents said or thought, the Dark Lord was evil. He had to do whatever he could to ensure that people knew he was coming back.

'Dobby, get Uncle Sev. Tell him everything.'

The elf's ears flattened, and his eyes filled with tears. 'Dobby cannot. Dobby is bound to keep the secrets of the Malfoy's.'

Draco made a snap decision. He wrenched off his Slytherin house tie, now stained with dust and dried blood. He thrust the tie into Dobby's small hands.

'You're free now, Dobby. Tell Uncle Sev what happened. Please.'

Dobby's eyes glittered with tears, and he disappeared with a crack. Draco closed his eyes. For months, Tom had been a voice in his head, the basilisk constantly hissing in his dreams. Now, all was quiet. He slipped in and out of consciousness. The sound of Dobby apparating back woke him briefly. He could hear sounds of yelling, running, metal clanging, curses being shouted. He could hear the basilisk moving in the chamber, hissing at someone, or something. A loud thud sounded throughout the chamber and all was silent again.

'Draco, oh my dear child. Draco can you hear me?'

It was Uncle Sev. Draco smiled. 'You came. Did Dobby give you my message?'

'Yes, he did. Thank you, Draco.'

'Good,' whispered Draco, his vision beginning to fade. 'Tell Father I'm sorry, Uncle Sev. I shouldn't have taken the diary.'

Uncle Sev's eyes were curiously shiny. 'Don't worry about that my dear. You were very brave.'

He had never seen Uncle Sev cry before. There was no hope then. Weariness pulled him into a pool of darkness and he closed his eyes. 'Tell Mother…'

Draco was gone.

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AN: Sorry I haven't updated in so long! I went through some life changes recently, so I've been occupied. Hope you guys enjoy this update!


	19. Chapter 19- A Crash Course in Evil

_Easter Holidays, 1993- Petunia_

The smell of fried eggs and bacon woke Petunia up the next morning. Several platters, along with a fat, brown pot of tea, had been placed on the small wooden table near the window. She stretched luxuriously, having slept surprisingly well the night before. Her sojourn through the castle, followed by revealing Harry's identity to Severus, had taken its toll on her, and she had been exhausted. Today though, with the aroma of bacon in the air, and sunshine outside, Petunia felt ready to take on the project she had set herself- figuring out what on earth was happening at Hogwarts.

Petunia was well aware that she was only a muggle teacher, and that several witches and wizards had tried before her to solve the mystery, and had failed. She admitted to herself that she truly just wanted to be near her nephew, as irrational as it was since he was quite unresponsive, and would remain so for the next month, until the mandrakes were mature. But, she was determined to make herself useful, and made her way to the library that morning. According to Dumbledore, no one had really bothered to do much actual research into what was happening at Hogwarts. Silly theories had been thrown about, and everyone had panicked. Petunia suspected that the Ministry wasn't conducting any sort of investigation at all- they were simply waiting until it was appropriate to remove Dumbledore. Petunia was determined to help in some way, even if it meant combing through the library's vast collection. There was nothing Petunia liked better than dusty books and the soft glow of library lamps.

Severus sat opposite her, having been assigned as her bodyguard, and shot her occasional glares. He had no reason to be upset, as he had little else to do, she reasoned- classes had been mostly postponed, and the few students who were still at the school were confined to their common rooms, except for meal times. Petunia snuck a look at the brooding man and thought with a smothered giggle that he just enjoyed being upset.

The days passed, melting into each other. Petunia learned quite a lot about the history of the school and magic in Britain, but nothing that would help them. Occasionally, she would ask Severus a question. He tried to keep up a façade of irritability, but not even he could maintain it for weeks on end. He lit up with some of her questions and became quite animated. Petunia finally began to understand why Lily had stayed friends with him for so long. He was quite handsome when he was excited about a topic, instead of brooding angrily, Petunia reflected. He would never be a James Potter, but he had certainly become distinguished looking, and had grown into his nose.

'… and so Merlin was the last mage any court in Britain ever had!' finished Severus, having just given Petunia a rundown on the history of royalty and magic. They weren't any closer to finding out who the culprit behind the attacks was, but neither seemed to notice the days passing.

They often talked of their own lives, Petunia talking about teaching in a muggle school, and ridiculed Severus' ad hoc way of teaching without a lesson plan.

'Really Sev, you just put the Potions instructions on the board and tell them to brew a potion? You don't even explain to them what might happen when they mix the ingredients?'

'But how will they learn if they don't make their own mistakes, Tuney?'

Petunia snorted and rolled her eyes. Often, their conversations became grim as Severus confided in her about his godson, Draco.

'He's simply too thin, Petunia. I'm sure it's the worry about pleasing his father. But Lucius won't listen.'

Petunia sympathised with the boy. As a child she often felt similarly about her own parents, who had been more impressed by a wand emitting sparks than a prize in English Literature. Petunia enjoyed her conversations with Severus more than she liked to admit. Adult Severus was quite companionable, and they had a surprising number of things in common. She thought she might almost be sad to leave Hogwarts when all this was over.

She sighed and flipped through the pages of an old tome titled 'Wizardes Who Deyfied Deathe' by Jingle Welles. This book was especially dusty, having been crammed into a crevice on the wooden shelf. Petunia was certain that no one had touched it for at least fifty years. There were several fascinating accounts of wizards and witches who had managed to live far longer than they should have, by use of dark magic or strange elixirs. In 1782, Henrietta Foxspell, an American woman, had purposefully consumed human flesh in an attempt to become a wendigo, and therefore, immortal. She went mad and was killed by a Native American shaman. Another, Darius Hagues tried to become a part vampire, but died of severe burns after he accidentally walked into sunlight. All seemed to have met gruesome ends. Fascinated, Petunia stuck her nose deeper into the book and read on. Eventually, she came to a page that had been blacked out, with a warning scrawled across it in shimmering silver ink.

'_Cast this cursed magick and be doomed _

_to wander the world_

_with a half life_

_with a half soul'_

'Severus… what do you suppose this means?' asked Petunia, showing him the odd script.

He glanced at it, confusion clouding his face. 'I'm not sure. I'm surprised Irma allowed one of her books to be defaced like this. She's usually so careful.'

'Defaced? One of my books? Impossible!'

Madam Pince, the strict librarian, emerged from behind a shelf. Petunia wondered how long she had been there, listening. Madam Pince snatched the book from Petunia in an attempt to prove her wrong. As her gaze fell onto the ruined page, her face went white.

Her voice trembled slightly. 'I see nothing wrong here. Carry on!'

She made to turn away, but Severus, caught her by the arm. 'Hang on Irma, what's this about? I've never known you to allow a book to remain in such a condition!'

Madam Pince's eyes darted frantically. 'Please don't ask me what was on that page Severus. I can't bear to speak of it!'

Petunia and Severus exchanged confused glances. Petunia wondered uneasily what on earth could have the usually dour librarian so hysterical.

'Irma.' Severus was uncharacteristically gentle. 'What's the matter? Why can't you speak of it?'

'It is forbidden. No one can or should speak of it.'

'Irma, as a fellow Hogwarts staff member, I think you should tell me,' said Severus, firmly.

Irma Pince shot him a tearful look. 'Only one has ever asked. Someone who went on to do horrible things. I regret telling him everyday. Only a terrible mind would want to know about this!'

'Madam Pince,' said Petunia softly. 'Whatever it is, do you think it is relevant to what's happening at Hogwarts? If it isn't, we won't ask again.'

The librarian blinked at her. 'I've wondered that, ever since I found that girl, frozen stiff, here. I've wondered, and I never said anything, Merlin help me.'

Petunia held her breath, and hoped against hope that it was a breakthrough.

'_Horcrux_.'

Severus froze. 'Who asked you about that?'

The librarian's eyes filled with tears. 'You _know_ who.'

Suppressing a sob, Madam Pince wrenched herself away from Severus' grip and fled the library. Petunia gaped after her. 'Whatever does that mean? Horcrux?'

Petunia waited impatiently, and Severus looked at her, his face pale. 'I don't know much about them, but what I do know is that they are taboo to even speak of. They're dark, cursed objects.'

'Lots of objects in the magical world are cursed though,' argued Petunia, not quite seeing what all the fuss was about. 'Even at the Potter's manor there was a bicycle that would drive you to the lake and tip you in. Why's this one so terrible then?'

'Horcruxes are… heavily cursed. Something terrible has to be done to create them. I believe a… sacrifice… is involved.'

'And what? What do they do?' Petunia eyed the title of the book. 'Do they help you live longer?'

Severus' gaze was far away, lost in thought. His voice was distant. 'I never knew what they did. No one ever talked about them. My mother slapped me once for asking. I'd heard an older Slytherin boy say the word. But no one wants to die. I imagine creating a horcrux keeps you alive somehow. What else could it do, for all the terrible things that supposedly have to be done for it?'

He gripped the edges of the table, snapping back to the present. His breaths were short and shallow, his eyes wide. 'My God. Petunia, _horcruxes_! It's what they do! It's what he was trying to do! Be immortal!'

'Severus, breathe! Who was trying to be immortal?'

Severus looked at her, fear clouding his dark eyes. 'The Dark Lord.'

Minutes later, Petunia and Severus stood in Dumbledore's circular office. Petunia wasn't sure what dots Severus had connected to arrive at his inflammatory conclusion, but he muttered something about showing them memories. Outside, the sun shone and lit the room in shades of warm gold. A beautiful bird sat perched near the window. He sang a long, sweet note, and despite her mounting fear over the mysterious horcruxes, Petunia felt a light enter her soul.

The old man beamed. 'Hello children! Getting along well, I see!'

Without any preamble, Severus said, 'Professor, we've got to use your pensieve!'

'Certainly, dear boy.' Dumbledore pointed his wand at a tall, cream wooded cupboard. A silver pot, inlaid with precious stones, and adorned in intricate carvings, floated out. It was filled with a strange, smoky substance. Petunia couldn't tell if it was liquid or not. She watched as Severus pointed his wand at his temple. A long silver strand emerged, and he dropped it into the pensieve. Images swirled in the mist- A small Severus being Sorted, holding hands with a small redhead (Petunia winced at that one). An older Severus receiving the Dark Mark, his face contorting with pain as it burnt his flesh. The scene changed, and Petunia saw a white faced young man tearfully pleading with Dumbledore 'Protect her. Protect them! I'll do anything!'. The figures faded away and she watched as the scene changes. Now the Severus in the pensieve furtively gazed at Petunia nosing through a book in the library. Severus choked and swiftly smacked the side of the pensieve.

He quickly described the old passage Petunia had found, and Madam Pince's revelation.

'… I think, perhaps, the Dark Lord might be trying to make himself immortal, sir. I have a few memories to show you.'

Dumbledore nodded, and the three linked hands. Petunia barely had time to wonder what was going to happen before she was floating through a grey space. Her feet met the ground gently, and she found herself in a dimly lit stone room. Severus and Dumbledore were on either side of her. She jumped as a man, clad in all black, swept past her, followed by several more.

'It's alright Petunia,' said Severus, gripping her hand firmly. 'It's just a memory; these people can't see or hear us.'

Petunia watched as the room slowly filled. She hadn't noticed before, but a very youthful Severus Snape was tucked into the corner, quietly observing everyone. It was a death eater meeting. Petunia shuddered. Was Vernon's killer here, chatting and laughing?

In front of the room stood a tall, pale man. With his dark hair and chiseled jaw, he might have been handsome, if not for his red slitted eyes. The Dark Lord. _Voldemort. _Petunia listened with a growing uneasiness as he called attention to his followers and crowed about acquiring a golden cup. Hufflepuff's Cup. He presented it to a simpering, black haired witch. This woman, Petunia knew- Bellatrix Lestrange. She was to put it into her vault. She smirked as she walked through the crowd, clearly pleased to have been chosen by her master over everyone else.

'…and next, my loyal followers, you must find me Gryffindor's sword! But until then, I will be satisfied with a few muggle lives!'

The group roared with approval and laughter. Petunia thought she might be sick. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw young Severus' lips thin for a fraction of a second, before cracking a stiff, obligatory smile. She wasn't sure why, but past Severus' disapproval made her feel better, in this room of cruel, twisted people.

'Aw Sevvy, better luck next time!' Bellatrix Black was giggling at him, waving the cup in his face.

'Whatever do you mean, Bellatrix?' His tone was bored as he scanned the room.

Bellatrix replied in a sing-song voice, 'Our Dark Lord trusts me-ee-ee! Not you-ou-ouuu!'

'It's just a cup, Bella. I'm not sure why he would care that much for it.'

Bellatrix's eyes tightened. 'It's NOT just a cup, you stupid boy. It's the Dark Lord himself!'

She flounced away. Petunia, Severus and Dumbledore watched as young Severus glanced curiously between Bellatrix and the Dark Lord. A blonde woman wandered up to him and greeted him. The walls of the room became fuzzy. Petunia blinked, and the scene changed once again. This time, they were in a beautiful ballroom. Silver candelabras hung from the ceiling, and moving tapestries decorated the walls. Finely dressed men and women danced and moved through the crowd. Petunia watched as Pensieve Severus chatted with some darkly clad men.

'The Dark Lord entrusted _me _with finding out what the ministry has on longevity,' boasted a thin man, puffing his chest out. 'I'm to find out what the Department of Mysteries has on immortality.'

Pensieve Severus glanced at him. 'For an Unspeakable, you certainly talk quite a lot, Rookwood.'

A roar of laughter from the surrounding death eaters faded and Petunia was back in the comfortable sunshine of Dumbledore's office.

Severus collapsed into a chair and snatched a chocolate off of Dumbledore's desk. 'I always wondered what it all meant. He was always strange about death. He said dying was for the weak. That's partly why he murdered so many muggles- to show that they were magically weak. But I think he was afraid of it. Of death. When I first joined the death eaters, he often had me brew experimental elixirs that he thought would increase his longevity.'

He paused to chew the chocolate that he was stress eating.

He swallowed and continued. 'When Madam Pince mentioned him asking her about them, I wondered. If a horcrux makes you immortal, then could he have made one?'

Dumbledore suddenly looked very old. 'I was afraid of this. Indeed, making a horcrux can give one a sort of immortality. It involves tearing your soul apart, and storing the fragment in another vessel. If the mortal body is destroyed, the fragment can be used to create a new body, and thus, new life. But to tear apart one's soul, one must _take _a soul. I have always suspected that Voldemort had made some sort of contingency plan. I just never knew what.'

'But he's gone! He's dead! Isn't he?' Petunia's voice rose in terror, as she recalled what his followers had done in his name to Vernon, what he had done to poor Harry. 'He can't come back!'

'If a horcrux was made, he will never be gone,' said Dumbledore, quietly. 'It has to be destroyed. Severus, Petunia, thank you. I do believe that Hufflepuff's cup might be his horcrux. We shall destroy it, and hopefully rid the world of him.'

'It was Petunia, professor. She found it,' said Severus unexpectedly, looking at her with admiration.

Petunia blushed.

* * *

_Easter Holidays, 1993- Severus_

Admittedly, he hadn't been pleased when Dumbledore assigned him to be Petunia Dursley's bodyguard. After shock of her revelation about Harry had worn off, he realised to his horror that he would have to spend his days with the waspish sister of his former best friend. The first few days were awkward. They sat stiffly together in the library, exchanging uncomfortable pleasantries. Somehow, they started talking, reminiscing about their childhood. As the conversation moved to their present lives, he realised how much they had in common- they were both teachers, (although he was sure Petunia was far superior in this aspect), they both enjoyed cooking, and collecting books, and both had a manic need to keep things tidy. It was strange, getting to know Petunia again, without Lily as the common denominator. As a child, he only ever saw Lily- Petunia was always a bad tempered blur in the background in his memories. He wondered how much of that image had come from his actual interactions with her, and how much of it was based on what Lily had said about her sister. Now, he saw Petunia a little more clearly. Next to Lily, with her deep auburn hair and bright green eyes, she had often seemed pale and lifeless, with her light skin and blonde hair. Now, he covertly stared as sunshine streaming through the library's stained glass windows lit her hair golden. Her eyes, blue and sparkling, made Severus think of the sapphires in the Ravenclaw hourglass.

He shook himself. What was _wrong_ with him? To daydream about Petunia Dursley, of all people? But he found himself thinking of excuses to write to her when Harry was better. Perhaps he could offer to tutor the boy when Hogwarts was closed. The awful possibility of the Dark Lord's horcrux snaked its way into his blissful daydreams. Severus shuddered. His dark mark had been coming back- perhaps they were too late, and the Cup had already been used to bring the Dark Lord back. But, Severus reassured himself, the mark wasn't clear. He wasn't back, not fully. They could still prevent this.

The mandrakes were nearly mature. Soon Harry would be cured, and the school closed. And Petunia would be gone, Severus thought dully. He was walking Petunia back to her room near the hospital wing. They had been in the library, under the guise of research. Neither of them had seen Madam Pince since she admitted that she had been the one to tell the Dark Lord about horcruxes. Severus felt sorry for her- she couldn't have known what he would do with that information. Dumbledore had spoken to her, but she remained cloistered in her rooms.

A loud bang made them jump. A small elf appeared in front of them in a puff of smoke. Severus recognised him- Dobby, the Malfoy's elf. His eyes, wider than saucers, shone with tears. He held a blood stained Slytherin house tie. Severus' heart dropped. _Draco_.

'What's wrong Dobby?' said Severus urgently. Something must have happened.

The little elf shook. 'Master Snape, Master Draco called to Dobby. Dobby is fetching Master Snape to save Master Draco!'

Quickly, Dobby gave Severus Draco's frantic message- about the diary, the chamber of secrets, the petrifications, the basilisk, Tom's boast of having more than one horcrux. Beside him, Petunia gasped in horror.

He turned to her. 'Petunia, get Dumbledore. I'll go to Draco.'

She gripped his hands tightly for a moment. 'Be careful, Sev.'

He nodded stiffly. Dobby grabbed his hand, and they were gone with a bang. Moments later, they appeared in the disused girls bathroom where Harry had been found. A sense of dread crept over Severus.

'Dobby cannot apparate Master Snape, Master Snape must use the entrance,' whispered the elf, indicating a hole in the wall behind one of the sinks.

'Dobby, go alert Dumbledore, and tell him what you told me,' instructed Severus, and the elf disappeared. Severus slid into the opening, and tumbled down a tunnel. He landed in small cave. He had no time to waste. If the blood on Draco's house tie was any indication, his godson didn't have long left. 'Homenum Revelio.'

The spell indicated that someone was nearby. Severus shot off, desperate to find Draco. He came to a vast, shadowy cavern.

'Lumos.'

Carvings of snakes decorated the room, their emerald eyes winking and glowing in the light of Severus' wand. They were in the fabled Chamber of Secrets. His breath was visible in a puff in front of him and he shivered. The chamber must be deep under the lake, he thought. An elaborate stone altar stood in the front of the room. Sprawled at the bottom of the shrine was a small, white figure.

'Draco!' shouted Severus, and began to run to his godson.

The sound of something large dragging itself in the shadows stopped him. Severus realised in horror that the basilisk was still lurking. Quickly, he tore a strip of cloth from his robes to cover his eyes. He knew that if he looked into the creature's eyes, he would die instantly. Belatedly, he realised that the petrified students had encountered the snake but were spared as none had looked into its eyes. He would have to fight in the dark if he hoped to get out of here alive. Moments later, the beast slithered in front of him. The sound of a thousand snakes hissing filled the room as it sensed Severus.

The basilisk caught sight of him. He could feel the ground tremble as it swiftly slid towards him. As it got closer, the creature's rotting breath filled his lungs and he struggled not to be sick.

Severus made a slashing motion with his wand. 'Sectumsempra!'

The basilisk shrieked, and Severus was showered in fine bits of rubble as the ceiling shook. He feared that he had simply made it angry as it roared up to him again. He tripped over large pieces of the fallen ceiling as he scrambled away from the snake. The snake's giant tail whipped out from behind it, and sent Severus flying. He smashed into the cold stone floor, and lay there, stunned. He could hear the snake coming back to him.

'Incendio!'

The basilisk roared in pain, and Severus could smell its flesh burning. It gave him time to crawl away. A searing pain ripped through his leg. The basilisk had caught him.

'Sectumsempra!' Severus gasped. The snake shrieked and backed away. Severus wasn't sure what good it would do now, though, as the venom raced through his body. A wave of dizziness swept over him and he sank down. How could he save Draco now he was half dead himself? He peaked through his blindfold and saw that the snake was dangerously close to Draco's prone body now. He had to get it away.

'Hey! Get away from him!'

He struggled to his feet and staggered forward. Even if it was the last thing he ever did, he would rid the school of this beast and save Draco. It didn't matter if he died; Petunia knew about the horcruxes. She would tell Dumbledore. He quashed the momentary sadness that sprang up when he realised he might not see her again. It was now or never. He shot several spells at the snake and it slithered away from Draco. He fell to his knees. He wasn't sure what more he could do.

A soft, sweet tone sounded in the air somewhere and he jumped when something soft fell into his lap. He heard the flutter of large wings, followed by the basilisk shrieking. The basilisk reared up, snapping at a large, beautiful bird that was fluttering above its head- Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix. Fawkes had plunged his long, thin beak into the snake's eyes, blinding it. Glancing down, he realised that the phoenix had dropped the Sorting Hat onto his lap. Severus stared at it, confused. What was he supposed to do with this? Get sorted again? He smothered a sudden, hysterical laugh. He was dying, and the bird had brought him a hat. He was quite out of options and he could see nothing else to do but jam the hat onto his head.

'Hello? Please. Help,' whispered Severus wondering if the hat would give him a solution to his current dilemma. He desperately hoped that the hat would not start singing.

A gravelly voice answered, 'Well, well, Severus Snape. It does seem that we sort too soon.'

Severus barely had time to ponder that statement when something hard and metallic smashed onto the top of his head. He suppressed a cry of pain and angrily tore the hat off his head. A shining object peaked out from inside the hat. Curiously, Severus gripped the bejewelled handle, and pulled. A glowing sword emerged from the hat, rubies sparkling warmly. Severus gasped as he read the name inscribed on the hilt- Godric Gryffindor. This was the ancient sword of Gryffindor, which legend said only a true Gryffindor could find. He pushed that to the back of his mind as he rushed forward to confront the blind basilisk. He slashed at the snake, surprised to see the metal cutting through its tough skin. This was his chance.

Using the last of his strength, he leapt onto a fallen stone column, and jumped onto the beast's back. The snake whipped its head back to shake him off, but Severus hung on for dear life. He slid forward and found himself sitting on top of the basilisk's head. It was now or never. He plunge the sword through the top of the basilisk's skull, into its brain and through the roof of its mouth. The room shook as the creature collapsed, dead.

Severus tumbled off the snake, still gripping the sword. The venom was properly in his system now, and he didn't have much time. He had to see to Draco. He dragged himself over to the boy. He cradled the child's thin body in his arms. Draco was too far gone for him to save. He had lost too much blood, and had been so weak for so long. He remembered holding Draco as a baby, and never thought he would outlive the child. He held back sobs as Draco whispered his last words.

'Tell mother…'

And he was dead. Severus began to weep. He cared little that he was about to die too. Draco was the closest thing he had to a son. He loved the child, and now he was gone. Fawkes fluttered down next to them, and sang a low, sad note. The phoenix seemed to mourn too, as tears filled its eyes. It leaned against Severus' leg, where the basilisk had bitten him, and he felt the pain dissipate. A sleepy, warm feeling overcame him, and he dreamily remembered phoenix tears as being an antidote for poisons. Still holding Draco's body, he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

AN: Hey everyone! Hope you guys enjoyed this update! Let me know what you thought of it! xx


	20. Chapter 20- The Turning of the Tides

_Easter Holidays 1993- Petunia_

For as long as she lived, Petunia never forgot Narcissa Malfoy's anguished screams as she held her son's body. She never expected the night to end like this. After Dobby delivered his cryptic message to Severus, Petunia hurried to Dumbledore's office. Breathlessly, she filled him in on what had happened. Minutes later, Dobby appeared in Dumbledore's office, and told them that Severus had gone into the Chamber alone. Petunia slumped into a soft, blue armchair hopelessly. If Draco was right, and it really was a basilisk down there, Severus was as good as dead. She had read about the creature in a book called 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' and thought at the time that it was a good thing they hadn't been seen in England for so long. Oddly, the same feeling of grief and despair that had clouded over her when she got the letter about Harry's petrification began to creep into her heart again. She hadn't realised how much she had come to care for Severus.

Dumbledore, not one to give up on his favourite Potions Master, dashed to the Chamber, leaving Petunia alone with her thoughts. She jumped when Dumbledore's pet bird let out a cry, and spread his wings, feathers blazing gold and orange. He picked up an old hat with his talons and flew out the door. Petunia hoped Dumbledore wouldn't blame her for losing his pet. She sighed, and felt utterly useless. A muggle in the midst of a magical battle probably was not in the best of situations. Petunia shook herself. She couldn't do magic, but she certainly could help by alerting others in the castle about the situation. She rushed to the Hospital Wing and pulled a bleary eyed Madam Pomfrey out of bed. Together, they prepared several beds in anticipation of Severus, Dumbledore, and Draco returning with injuries. Madam Pomfrey quickly instructed Petunia on preparing the ingredients for some simple healing potions. They also set up a small station with bandages and hot water. The Hospital Wing shone as Madam Pomfrey lit every light and candle in the room. It was almost cosy, except for the partitioned beds that held the petrified students, a reminder that the light was just a façade, a mask over the darkness that threatened to envelope the school.

The doors flew open, and Dumbledore imposing, he looked older and bent. He carried a child in his arms. Behind him, a body floated- Severus. Petunia's heart dropped. Severus' arm hung limply at his side, and she wasn't sure if he was breathing or not. Dumbledore levitated him to a bed, and Petunia was relieved to see his chest rising and falling. She turned her attention to Draco, and Dumbledore sadly shook his head. He laid the child's tiny body on a nearby bed. Tears welled in Petunia's eyes. When Dobby first alerted them, she thought he might be found petrified, like the others. She never expected him to die. She had dealt with death before- her parents, Vernon. But never a child. Draco's body was so small and frail, bruises blossoming on his pale skin.

Dumbledore turned to Madam Pomfrey. 'Poppy, please make Draco… please make him look as though he is asleep. I've got to break the news to his parents. They will want to see him.'

Madam Pomfrey nodded as she wiped tears away and began preparing. She gently wiped the dried blood from Draco's face and hands, and smoothed his ruffled hair. Soon, he looked almost peaceful. Petunia sat beside Severus, and held his hand. Madam Pomfrey quietly drew the curtains around Draco's bed. His parents would be arriving soon.

Outside the Hospital Wing, Petunia heard Dumbledore. 'I am sorry, Lucius, Narcissa. There was nothing we could do.'

'No!'

Narcissa Malfoy burst into the room. Petunia barely caught a glance at the aristocratic witch as she rushed to Draco's bedside. Lucius Malfoy followed her, his face drawn.

'No, no, no, no, please, darling, wake up, mummy is here,' cried Narcissa. Petunia could not see her behind the fragile privacy of the curtain, but her heart broke at her agony. 'Please, Draco, wake up!'

Narcissa's choking sobs turned into wails of anguish, and Petunia could feel the castle shake with her rage and grief. A cold wind swirled through the room, parting the curtains. Petunia could now see Narcissa clearly, holding her son's body, light and energy crackling around her. Outside, lightning lit the sky purple while thunder crashed, as Narcissa's magic turned into tormented chaos.

Lucius wrapped his arms around her, attempting to calm her. Narcissa snapped her head around and glared at him. 'YOU did this! You, with your allegiance to the Dark Lord, with your meetings, and your Death Eaters… YOU KILLED MY SON!'

Lucius was knocked off his feet and thrown into the opposite wall. Roused by the noise and the surge of magic in the air, Severus stumbled out of bed, assisted by Petunia.

'Narcissa… I am so sorry,' he whispered, arms outstretched to the grieving woman. 'I tried to save him. But, you must know, he was so brave at the end. So, so brave.'

Narcissa's rage evaporated, and she held Draco's body close to her, tears pouring down her face. 'My sweet boy.'

The freak storm outside died down, and the only sound left was Narcissa's faint weeping. She rocked back and forth, cradling her child, lost to the world. Lucius quietly backed out of the room, followed by Severus, Petunia and Madam Pomfrey.

He turned to Severus. 'Did I do this, Severus? Did I kill him?'

'You couldn't have known, Lucius.'

His shoulders drooped. 'I knew I was playing with fire. We all knew the Dark Lord was mad. But he was supposed to be _our_ madman. He was supposed to be on our side. How could he have killed my son, Severus? He must have known the Malfoys would be loyal to him.'

Severus said nothing, but his eyes glittered with tears. Petunia finally realised why Severus had neither married nor had children all those years. When she first came to the castle, she secretly wondered if he still nursed a crush on Lily. Now, she better understood his actions since the war- acting as an informant and turning the war to their side, Dumbledore's trust in him, his friendship with the Malfoys. He was a double agent, and with no kin, he could afford to walk that fiery path. But Lucius couldn't. He had bet everything on the Dark Lord, and he had lost it all.

* * *

_One week later- Severus_

Dumbledore looked at him over his half moon spectacles. 'Are you certain we can trust them, Severus?'

'I believe so, yes. Narcissa and Lucius were never fanatics. They always drift to the side that benefits them the most. And now….'

Dumbledore smiled ruefully as Severus trailed off. They both knew that Draco's death would be either the breaking or the making of the Malfoys. Severus wanted to give them that chance. The chance to avenge their child's death, the chance to be on the right side of history. The chance that he got when he realised that Lily was the subject of that prophecy.

'I trust your judgement, Severus. See what you can do.'

The potions master made his way to the door. As he was about to leave, he turned to Dumbledore. 'Professor… might I ask you something?'

'Of course, Severus.'

'How was I able to get the Sword of Gryffindor from the hat? I thought only a true Gryffindor could retrieve it?'

Dumbledore looked at him fondly. 'That is true.'

'Then how…?'

The old headmaster gazed at him, regret and pride mingled on his face, and he echoed the hat's words, 'Sometimes, my dear boy, I think we Sort too soon.'

* * *

_Malfoy Manor- Severus _

Draco's funeral was quiet, with only his parents, Severus and the now freed house elf, Dobby, in attendance. Eerily composed, Narcissa resembled a beautiful porcelain statue. She did not cry. Lucius, on the other hand, wept openly as Draco's casket was placed in the family mausoleum. Narcissa stared stonily ahead, and never looked at her sobbing husband once.

The dinner held after the service was quiet. Narcissa only sipped wine, while Lucius stared at his plate, his peas and ham getting progressively colder. Severus cleared his throat. It was now, or never.

'Lucius, Narcissa. May we speak in private?'

They both looked up, Narcissa displaying the first emotion she had in days- curiosity. Severus wondered if she knew what he was about to say. He had always been wary of Narcissa Malfoy- she was far cleverer than she appeared. He sensed that she knew much more than she let on. He quickly cast the muffliato charm and a muted buzzing surrounded them.

He looked at them intently. 'Do you think you can still be loyal to the Dark Lord, after what he has done to your family?'

Lucius started. 'Y-yes, of course, he is our Lord, and we-'

For the first time in days, Narcissa spoke to her husband. 'Oh, do shut up, Lucius. Isn't it obvious, what's going on here?'

Lucius stared at her, confused. 'What do you mean?'

Narcissa nodded at Severus to continue.

'You've worked tirelessly to find the Dark Lord, since our marks started coming back. And you never got a word of thanks. Instead, he took your child from you. Will you continue to follow his orders?'

Tears glimmered in Lucius' eyes. 'I don't know how to get out.' He turned to his wife. 'Narcissa, I am so sorry. You were right. If I had chosen differently… if I hadn't supported the Dark Lord, Draco might still be alive.'

Narcissa stared at him wordlessly. There was no forgiveness in her gaze, only pain. Severus wondered if she would ever feel anything but grief and anger again. He loved Draco, but knew that his loss was nothing compared to Narcissa's- a mother's love, turned into a mother's rage. Seeing his opportunity, Severus quietly slid a piece of paper across to them. He wasn't worried about being betrayed. Besides their already shaken faith in the Dark Lord, the paper was charmed- they would never be able to speak the words they read to anyone who didn't already know.

_Isle of Avalon_

_The mists will open_

_if your heart is true_

Just as they finished reading, the paper burst into flames, and curled into ashes.

'Go there, if you wish to avenge Draco. But I warn you, the mists will know if your intentions aren't good,' said Severus looking at them intently.

Lucius gaped at him. He hadn't been expecting Severus, of all people, to offer a way out. Even after the Dark Lord's fall, they had remained close allies, with Severus occasionally feeding him bits of information about Dumbledore (at the Headmaster's behest, of course). Narcissa, however, didn't look surprised. Severus suspected that she had an inkling that he was never quite loyal to the Dark Lord.

'Severus, I don't know what to say…' Lucius trailed off.

'It will be dangerous, what I'm suggesting. You might not survive. But it could help us.'

'Yes!' Narcissa burst out, hatred flashing in her ice blue eyes. 'Lucius, Draco is _gone _because the Dark Lord killed him. I don't want his death to be in vain. I don't care if I die. I want to help.'

Lucius hesitantly took Narcissa's hand, and for once, she didn't flinch at his touch. 'Yes, of course. Severus, of course. We will join you.'

Severus nodded. He silently rose and left the table, his mission successful. As he stepped into the floo, he saw Narcissa embrace Lucius as he broke down weeping.

* * *

_Hogwarts- Petunia_

The mandrakes were mature, and the day had come to treat the petrified students. Petunia sat at Harry's bedside, anxiously knitting a scarf. All the other students had been cured, and were in varying stages of consciousness. Hermione Granger had even been allowed to go home to her parents already. Impatiently, Petunia stuck her head out the curtain to see if either Madam Pomfrey or Severus would attend to Harry soon.

Dumbledore walked in. 'Petunia, my dear, I am so sorry this has taken so long. I must speak with you and Severus before we proceed with Harry's treatment.'

Petunia nodded apprehensively. She wanted her nephew back badly, and the delay was making her antsy. Severus came in, looking as puzzled as she felt.

Dumbledore gazed at Harry's still form. 'Our recent discovery of Lord Voldemort's horcruxes made me suspicious of his attack on Harry… the attack in which Harry lost his magic. We always theorised that he was trying to get rid of him, given that he was the subject of a prophecy that predicted his downfall.'

Petunia nodded. This she knew. The prophecy had singled out a child, born at the end of July, who would supposedly kill Voldemort. She was aware that Severus had been the one to tell Voldemort about the prophecy, but he hadn't known who it was about. It was the thing that brought him over to their side. Her heart thumped slightly at the memory, a strange pride flooding through her.

'I believe it was more than that,' continued Dumbledore. 'Ever since the theory of the horcruxes came up, I've wondered… could Voldemort have tried to make _Harry_ a horcrux?'

Petunia gasped in horror. 'No! That evil man can't be a part of Harry! Why would he do that, anyway? What on earth could that accomplish?'

Dumbledore sighed. 'I believe that Voldemort thought that if Harry was a horcrux, he was guaranteed immortality. No one would kill the child destined to kill the dark lord, and even if Harry did kill him, a piece of his soul would live on in him. No doubt his followers would have been instructed to use Harry as some sort of vessel to bring him back.'

Petunia began crying. Nothing in Harry was evil. He was the sweetest child. The thought that someone could just see him as an object repulsed her.

Severus gently held her hand. 'While Harry is petrified, I can run some tests on him. If this is the case, we will figure this out, Petunia.'

'And it won't hurt him?'

'Not at all. This is the best time to run these tests.'

Dumbledore nodded in agreement. 'Typically, the spell used _would_ cause much pain. But as Harry is petrified, he should feel nothing at all.' He looked at Petunia, his gaze gentle. 'It is up to you, Petunia. You are his guardian, his mother, really.'

'I need to think about it.'

Dumbledore and Severus left her to her thoughts for a while. She debated the possibility of Harry being a horcrux. He had never shown any signs of evil, or even being bad. He was just a typical child. She almost got up to tell them to forget it, that it wasn't necessary, and she wanted Harry awake and home. But a niggling thought lodged itself at the back of her mind- _what if? _What if creating a human horcrux had been Voldemort's intention all along? Her mind made up, she called them back to Harry's bedside.

'Run the tests.'

Petunia sat next to Harry as Severus chanted, and scattered a gold potion over Harry. At first, nothing happened, and Petunia's heart lightened. Perhaps there was a chance that nothing would happen at all. Her hopes were dashed when the golden liquid turned a putrid grey.

Dumbledore gripped her shoulder. 'I'm so sorry Petunia. This means that Harry is indeed, a horcrux.'

'No,' whispered Petunia. 'What do we do? Professor, what do we do?'

'We have several options. Harry could be a useful tool to us in the fight against Voldemort. He might be the only one who can actually kill him.'

'He is a CHILD!' snarled Petunia enraged. 'You can't put that on him!'

'I understand, Petunia,' said Dumbledore softly. 'I don't want him in this war anymore than you do. But it may be the only way to win against Voldemort.'

'Is there any way to remove the horcrux from him?' She turned to the potions master. His face was unreadable. 'Severus?'

Severus nodded slowly. 'He's petrified now, and I believe we can isolate the soul fragment and kill it with basilisk venom. We will need Fawkes to administer the antidote immediately, of course.'

Dumbledore frowned. 'Harry might be the only way of winning the war, Severus.'

Severus straightened his hunched shoulders. 'Professor, I will do everything I can to ensure that Voldemort is destroyed without Harry. He's just a child, and we can't doom him to die. We can, and we must do this without him.'

Petunia stood in front of Harry's bed protectively. 'He is my child, Professor. The only child I'll ever have. I swore to my sister to protect him, and protect him I will. Even if I have to protect him from you. Even if it means this world goes up in flames. You'll find a way to kill Voldemort, but it won't be Harry.'

Dumbledore looked contrite. 'Of course, you are right, you are both right. Forgive an old man his ambitions. I got carried away with the idea of ending Voldemort once and for all. Harry's life is not the price we will pay for peace.'

Severus and Dumbledore quickly left to gather the materials necessary to kill the soul fragment. Severus would be retrieving basilisk venom, and Dumbledore would be getting his phoenix, Fawkes. The phoenix had saved Severus' life, and she hoped he would save Harry's as well. She held her nephew's cold, stiff hand, and longed to feel it move and pulse with blood and life. She would never again take it for granted when Harry ran, played and shouted.

'Petunia.' Dumbledore held out a hand, and drew her away from Harry. 'It is time, my dear. Would you prefer to leave the room? It may not be pleasant.'

'No.' Petunia shook her head. 'I have to stay… I've got to be here when he wakes up. And… I need to see what he goes through. I can't be a coward.'

Severus returned with a vial of basilisk venom. Viscous and dull yellow, it looked innocuous, and a little disgusting. The potions master pulled out an old fashioned syringe, and Petunia shuddered at the thought of getting shots with that thing. He quickly marked out areas on Harry's body to inject the venom- his throat, heart, stomach, thighs and feet.

Severus turned to her. 'I'll be starting now. Petunia… I can't guarantee that this will be uncomplicated.'

Petunia understood the meaning behind his words. She leant over Harry, and kissed him on his forehead.

'Be brave, my love,' she whispered, tears clouding her voice. 'I will be here when you wake.'

Severus began injected the venom, and at first, nothing happened. The injection points smoked faintly from the contents of the syringe. A loud crack startled them. Harry's body twisted, the venom fighting against the petrification. His eyes flew open.

'Harry!' shrieked Petunia, jumping towards her nephew.

Severus grabbed her and held her back. 'I don't think that's Harry, Petunia.'

Harry began to laugh, but it was nothing like his regular laughter. It was deep and bitter. The smile he wore was cold and cruel. The horcrux was awake, and the malice in its power was palpable.

It turned to Petunia, hatred shining in its eyes. 'Harry hates you, Petunia. You're not his real mother, you never will be!'

Inexplicable anger against Lily consumed her. For a moment, she hated Harry, resented that her own baby was gone forever, while she was saddled with the child of a sister who outshone her all her life.

Harry's head turned stiffly and he sniggered at Severus. 'And you, Snivellus, you think he looks up to you? A greasy potions master? Harry is just waiting to curse you the way his father did.'

'Don't listen to it!' shouted Dumbledore, pulling out his wand. 'It's the horcrux, it's Voldemort!'

Petunia fought through the hatred and resentment and forced herself to remember the nephew she loved, the child she would die for. She snarled at the horcrux. 'None of that's true. You're just angry, and you're dying. Harry will defeat you!'

As it turned to spew more insults at Petunia, Severus used the distraction to quickly inject more venom into Harry's heart. The horcrux shrieked in pain and anger.

'Fight, Harry, fight!' Petunia urged her nephew. He was still in there, and she was certain he could hear her.

Harry's body convulsed, and the horcrux screamed.

'Auntie! Make it stop!'

It was Harry, not the horcrux.

'It's working!' shouted Dumbledore. 'Harry, keep fighting, hold on!'

Harry's face twisted and evil glared back. 'Harry is gone! It's only me now.'

The boy's head whipped back and forth as Harry fought to regain control. 'Professor! Help!'

Severus delivered one final dose of the venom, and the horcrux howled in pain. Harry's body emitted an intense flash of green light. The horcrux was dead. His body became stiff again, and Severus swiftly placed Fawkes on the child's chest. Several tears leaked from the birds eyes onto the points of injection. When Severus was sure that the phoenix tears had gotten rid of the venom, Severus administered the mandrake cure.

Harry's eyes opened, and he blinked in confusion. 'Auntie? I had the weirdest dream, I was in a bathroom, and then I was in the hospital wing, and there was this voice in my head-'

His words were lost as Petunia swept him into a hug. She had her boy back.

* * *

_One Week Later, Hogwarts_

A hint of spring hung in the air as students gathered on the castle's front lawn. It was the day of Draco Malfoy's memorial. His mother and father sat at the front, composed and stiff. Harry hung at Petunia's side, his face swollen and his eyes red. Petunia wasn't sure he would ever get over his friend's death.

'I should have noticed something was wrong,' Harry had sobbed to Petunia when she told him the news. 'He's my friend, I should have seen something.'

Petunia had cradled him. 'You were the best friend he could have asked for. Voldemort is a powerful wizard. He hoodwinked everyone. There was nothing you could have done, my dear.'

Now, he stood silently, a small dot in the sea of black. The students were uncharacteristically quiet, and Slytherin house, with Severus in front, was even more subdued than normal. Severus confided that his mark had come back, and that he had seen Voldemort in the flesh. Horror pervaded Slytherin House when they learnt that Draco had been killed by Voldemort. 'A necessary sacrifice' Voldemort had reasoned to his followers. He promised to bestow riches and power on the Malfoys for their 'contribution'. Many students in Slytherin had parents who were ardent followers of the Dark Lord, and the sense of safety they might have enjoyed during his return was destroyed by the fear that, like Draco, they could be killed for his gain.

Severus gave a brief eulogy, and Dumbledore spoke kindly of the child as well. As a Slytherin prefect spoke about what an exemplary student Draco was, Petunia said a small prayer for the deceased child. She believed that his death would not be in vain, and that perhaps, it would turn some of his followers against him. As the service ended, Harry tugged on her sleeve.

'Can I say something to Draco's parents?'

'Of course, you were his friend, I'm sure they'll like that.'

Harry was tough, Petunia had to admit that. At that age, she would have gone to pieces before talking to people who looked as grand as the Malfoys. Truthfully, she felt a little like going to pieces _now_.

'Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy,' said Harry softly. 'My name is Harry Dursley. I was friends with Draco. We took the advanced Potions class together and he was one of my best friends. And you should know, he didn't care that I'm muggle born. I'll miss him a lot.'

Narcissa wiped away a tear. 'Thank you, dear. It's good to know that Draco had friends here.'

Lucius shook Harry's hand. 'It seems my son was far wiser than I ever was.'

'We will learn from him,' said Narcissa calmly.

Petunia sensed a determination in the delicate blonde. She understood. Narcissa Malfoy would end Voldemort, even if she died in the process. Petunia knew, because she would have done the same in Harry's place. She smiled grimly. Voldemort had his work cut out for him. The tides had turned.

* * *

AN: I know it's been a while since I posted, but I really hope you enjoy this update! Please review and let me know what you thought! xx


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